...where every woman over 50 is TOP DOG!

Monday, July 28, 2008

Cat On A Hot Tin WOOF

A WOOFer spies a feral cat prowling her farm and emails her observations. The feline ventures close for food and drink. Try to pet her? Gone, baby, gone.

My friend goes on to say the cat’s behavior reminds her of a middle-age acquaintance who is always on the move. A veritable undomesticated great dame.

So maybe WOOFers and cats have more in common than previously thought.

And maybe, when a woman hits 50, any wild streak she embraced in her younger years doesn’t immediately shrivel to the size of Cleopatra’s mummified ovaries. Her graying hair (somewhere beneath the L’Oreal) doesn’t automatically signal a dullness of wit and wiliness.

Correct me if I’m wrong (which I’m not, so don’t bother), WOOFers still feel the fire “down below” and a quickening pulse at the mere mention of the Denzel Washingtons and/or Ellen DeGenereses of the world.

Sure, a Barkalounger and Social Security take precedence over bikini waxes and firm abs on the over-50 woman’s priority list.

But, hey, all that means is this...a WOOFer not only weighs more than in her 30s, she also weighs a bit more carefully her choices.

Example: Now, with the urge to be a “bad dog,” many of us sip a glass of red wine before 5 and dine on extra-dark chocolate.

A WOOFer toast: To healthy, wealthy and … wild!


No comments: