Mr. Astor had one of his rare weekends off, so we made the very best of it and made a state visit to KiKi. We had just celebrated his eighteenth and one half birthday and were concerned about his lethargic behaviour in the last week. Fortunately, he got a dose of antibiotics from the vet and was back to his old, crabby nature. I had a spirited game of "Tarantula" with him and he thoroughly enjoyed the steak we had sauteed in mushroom sauce for him.

I also have to say that I never meant to bad mouth The Baroness; she has every right to flaunt her money as is the right of everyone else here on South Beach. I just wonder about the way she flaunts her taste. Secret images taken by her staff show she has a most vulgar figurine in her bedroom next to--and, I shudder to think of it--her sainted mother's photograph. I won't even bring up the fact that our gift of The Star of Constantinople in there, too.

The week is off to a grand start. Carl Zablotney flew into town last night from Mexico for the week and today my beloved Captain Jeremy arrived from Columbia. All we need is a couple of other members of the famed, gay Seventh Calvary to have a quorum.