The Noble Witherspoons

I come from a long line of Witherspoons. Our heritage is quite noble, and our blue Cocker blood has never been tainted by some promiscuous poodle or a hyperactive chihuahua (in spite of the majordomo erroneously insisting in one of his mean-spirited rants that I will age to be a golden labrador retriever). I feel I must clarify that my lineage is in no way linked to one legally blonde Academy Award winning actress, though I have been told the resemblance is uncanny (in part due to having the same stylist and his penchant for bleach).

Sadly, I am the last living Witherspoon and currently have no successor to my throne. This is most likely another reason why I was exiled to this kingdom in the tropics. I suspect there was a conspiracy by the families around Miamishire entwined in greed and deception. They sought to depose me from my throne and instate some vixenish pitbull with a litter of six heirs. I have not the foggiest notion of how long that reign of terror will last for those peninsular people, but I imagine when the inevitable revolution occurs I will be reinstated as King. Though it has crossed my mind that I could be exiled again, and I fear I could follow in Napoleon I of France's footsteps and perish in a second exile. Right now I have learned to accept that I am living my own personal Elba and have learnt not to repeat the mistakes of my fellow vertically-challenged brethren. Though, as he said, it is the cause, and not the death, that makes the martyr.