This has come about due to the Mistress having lunch with a friend who had not met me before today. This perfectly nice woman seemed to lose all sense of decorum when she saw me.
"Oh, its so cute!" she exclaimed.
"Cute"? Was she referring to me? I am a fine machine. A pedigree of racing in my breeding. A movie star known for doing all my own stunts no matter how risky. I assume everyone has seen "The Italian Job"? Well, there you have it.
"Cute"? I was simply stunned... Then the Mistress invited this woman to sit in the driver's seat. Ah, ha, I thought. Now we'll hear what a fine machine I am. An impressive engine under the bonnet which offers pick up that flattens one against the seat with something approaching G-force. Power to cut corners at high speeds and never lose the slightest road traction.
But what happens when she sits in the seat?
"Oh! This is just so CUTE!"
I maintained my dignity. I neither wailed nor gnashed my grill. But the soul was wounded. Am I forever destined to be simply "Cute"?
Well, 'stiff upper lip' and all that. I shall rise above the shallowness of cuteness and prove my metal in the long run.
Perhaps Mistress will allow me to go to the mountains one day. Then I shall show the world what a Clubman can do.
Cute.
harrumph.
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