ME AND MY DAD
I have two big woofs today. The first one is something I learned from a vendor at the airport where we go to provide calm amidst the chaos in their program Airport Ambassadors—Wag more; bark less. Do you get it? I keep working on barklessness, but it’s impossible for me, especially when I see skateboards. They won’t be herded, that’s part of my problem with them.
But, that’s not the whole subject of my woof today. I fooled you. My other woof has to do with fluidity, going with the flow. I’m here to tell you I am gender fluid. That’s right. I’m here to announce I am a boy but it doesn’t offend me the least little bit if you think I am a girl. I wear a rubber band on top of my head, wrapped into a sprout which comes in all colors, including pink and other pastels, which, BTW, were once very popular for boys in the early twentieth century. I wear it so I can see everything better, not just to look cute. I love it when you put up my hair.
Just so you, my reading audience, know. My scarves also come in all colors…you name it. My wag swagger is boy/girl. I can really swish my hips. I’ve just plain got it, regardless of my gender.
People always ask, “Is it a boy or girl?” When they refer to me as “it,” they are thinking I can’t speak for myself and am just a neutral being. Well, we know that’s not true, don’t we? So, you always say, “Oliver is a boy.” But, even if you said I’m a girl, people would still think I’m adorable, so, really what difference does it all make? I want to be called by my name: OLIVER.
I will tell you about my dad, your sweetie, in another blog.
Advice from Oliver: Care less about gender and more about wagging.