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| Her Royal Highness Jorja Specklestockings |
May it be known that I hereby bestow my greetings upon you, dear subjects!
I, Jorja Specklestockings, am your princess. I qualify as well as
anyone—do I not?—because for a period of months I presided over the castle of Agios Giorgos, St.
George, a magnificent 16th-century edifice topping a precipitous hill on the fabled
Greek island of Kefalonia.
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| Princess Jorja and her cat courtiers, in shadow of castle ramparts |
As it so
happens, my family took me there one day on an excursion but somehow forgot to take me with
them when they left. I waited for them to remember and come back, but they did not.
Villagers in the homes near the castle kindly provided me with meals. Naturally they
should, me being visiting royalty.
I drank green goopy rainwater that collected in the hole of an old stone artifact near the castle.
I drank green goopy rainwater that collected in the hole of an old stone artifact near the castle.
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| Drinking murky water from old stone artifact |
There was
no warm place to sleep during this soggy, bitter winter. Abandoned houses crumbled
by the infamous earthquake of 1953 offered only a modicum of shelter. The most warmth I could garner was from the street pavement on an occasional sunny day.
Not very suitable for a noble young lady such as moi.
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| Trying to find warmth by lying in the middle of the street |
But a few
nights ago... suddenly... everything changed. Under the walls of the castle, lit up all golden by a fiery sunset, a handsome prince named Agapi appeared out
of nowhere and swept me off my prettily speckled paws.
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| Swept off the royal paws by Prince Agapi |
I fell
for him immediately (you know how impulsive we redheads can be, even we
well-bred princess redheads) and I think he felt quite taken with me too. It
was all so storybook.
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| Prince meets princess |
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| Introductions... |
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| And further introductions |
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| Awkward moment |
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| First kiss... on the cheek...proper and chaste, of course |
After a romantic promenade together...
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| Romantic royal promenade through the castle village |
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| Church of the Evangelistria, circa 1580, with misty Mt. Aenos beyond |
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| View of fiery sunset over the Ionian sea |
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| Quaint village streetlamps |
... and after I introduced him to my feline
courtiers...
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| Kitty courtiers |
... his chauffeur opened the door of his carriage, and Agapi jumped in.
It seemed
so warm and comfy in there, with blankets on the soft seats, that I tried to
take my place next to the prince, as is my due. But the chauffeur shut the door
in my face.
Astonishing!
Ghastly! To slam a door on a princess!
After the
chauffeur got in, I daintily placed my paws upon her window and kissed it ever
so sweetly, convinced she'd relent. She didn't. How rude, to further refuse a
princess! Then I put my paws on Agapi's window and kissed him goodbye through
the glass. He kissed me back from the other side. My heart pounded in my
beautifully speckled chest with a mixture of longing and sadness.
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| No room for a princess? |
As they
started to drive off, I became indignant. I sat right next to the departing carriage
staring pointedly at the chauffeur, insisting with my commanding gaze that she
stop and open the door. Just as pointedly, the chauffeur turned away.
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| A commanding gaze |
That’s
when my royal reserve crumbled. I confess that I whimpered openly. How could I
help it? It’s simply wrong when people drive away and leave important
personages such as myself behind. A fate completely unfit for a royal.
t |
| Left behind... again |
So I
decided to follow them. If I were to just trot along behind the car, maybe I'd
discover where Agapi lived, so at least I could pay him courtly visits.
I think
this really bothered that cretin of a chauffeur. I could hear Agapi whining,
ordering her to stop. After a couple of minutes she obeyed and pulled over.
The
chauffeur got out and stood there frowning at me dourly. Then, after a
nerve-racking eternity, during which I stooped to wagging my tail, grinning,
and performing utterly charming play-bows (a shameful display into which no
princess should be forced), the chauffeur shook her head and muttered, "I
can't believe I'm going to do this.”
Finally,
she opened the car door.
I waited.
It was important to demonstrate that I wasn’t really all that desperate. After
an appropriate moment or two, I gracefully entered the vehicle. (All right,
well, the truth is I hopped in lickety-split before she could change her outlandishly
useless mind.)
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| Decisive moment |
The
chauffeur drove us to Agapi’s palace down near the sea. I rode in the
front seat—proper for nobility—and Agapi politely stayed in the back. Which was
very gentlemanly, because you know how some fellows, even royal ones, just want
to get you in the back seat and paw at you.
(For example I’m sure you’ve heard
those fur-raising tales about a certain young British prince, who happens to be a fellow redhead.)
I was
afraid to go inside the palace, because, well... you know... a girl can’t be
too careful these days. So the chauffeur picked me up and carried me. The whole
thing made me rather nervous, I have to admit.
But soon
I found myself resting on a pile of blankets, warm for the first time in
months. With a full tummy and plenty of clean water too.
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| Snug and warm in Prince Agapi's palace |
The
not-so-pleasant news is that just as I was falling asleep, the chauffeur
explained to me that soon she and Agapi will leave the island, and thus we must
find somewhere else for me to live.
She said that if I issued a proclamation
describing my predicament (the document you are currently reading), maybe
someone could help find me suitable lodging. Perhaps there’s even a family who
would like for their home to be furever graced by the presence of a lovely
young princess?
This is
all quite absurd. A brilliant and beautiful girl of noble blood having to
beg? Ach, the vagaries of fate.
Nevertheless,
the chauffeur said to make sure to inform my subjects that I weigh 17 kilos (37 pounds), am somewhere between 12 months to 16 months of age (we ladies prefer not to reveal our exact dates of birth), possess "very
nice manners," am “clever,” could probably "fit into almost any
home," and that I am “uncommonly beautiful." (I don't mean to
brag—blush blush—that's just what she said. And of course every word is
precisely true.)
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| 'Uncommonly beautiful' |
Also she
said that she and Agapi would escort me to the doctor’s office so that I could receive all the tests and vaccinations and so forth that one requires for
relocation. I’ll have an operation so that I won’t have to
make puppies anymore. (I delivered some not long ago. They all passed away.
It was sad and I don’t wish to discuss it further. Nor do I wish to produce any
more, thank you.)
In any
case, Agapi, prince that he is, has instructed his Court Treasurer to finance
my future journey to a qualified palace that befits a young lady of my station.
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| Prince Agapi looks out for Princess Jorja's future |
His
chauffeur opined that as soon as you, my loyal subjects, hear about what a “sweet,
pretty, perky, and smart little redhead” I am, it won’t be long before somebody
realizes they can’t live without me.
(Yes it’s terribly gauche for a chauffeur to describe a princess as
“perky” or “little,” but we must make allowances for our servants.)
I do
appreciate your prompt attention to this matter.
Interested parties may contact the chauffeur via the following methods:
Interested parties may contact the chauffeur via the following methods:
- Email: youradopteddogATyahooDOTcom
- Facebook message: The Dozen Dog Diaries or Katerina Lorenzatos Makris
Sincerely,
HRH Jorja
Specklestockings
Princess
of St. George’s Castle (currently in exile)
Island of Kefalonia
Greece
More on Jorja:
Spay Day for Princess Jorja Specklestockings (Part One)
Good news: Rescued dog Jorja Specklestockings is free of dreaded disease
More on Jorja:
Spay Day for Princess Jorja Specklestockings (Part One)
Good news: Rescued dog Jorja Specklestockings is free of dreaded disease
More on Agapi:
A bloody dog standing in the road: What do you do?
Safety versus guilt: The animal rescuer’s dilemma
Safety versus guilt: The animal rescuer’s dilemma
Vet’s instructions for curing rescued dog’s wicked disease
Anxiety attacks? Blame the dog
Who’s rescuing whom? Agapi saves the day… or at least the night
More on why Katerina is in Greece:
How I got stranded in an old, cold, leaky house all winter Read Melissa Beamish's excellent blog about her round-the-world trip volunteering in animal shelters, including a month at Kefalonia's ARK.
To donate or to volunteer on behalf of animals in Kefalonia, contact Animal Rescue Kefalonia (ARK) and Kefalonia Animal Trust (KATs).
ALL PHOTOS AND TEXT BY KATERINA LORENZATOS MAKRIS unless otherwise noted
COPYRIGHT 2012
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