You'd better be ready to take another tumble down the rabbit hole, my darlings, because there are totally awesome developments in the world of celebrity livestock. Ms Hilton has a new pet. He's a shaman!
God, I love Paris in the springtime. Even looking at the pictures is giving me a religious awakening. Can we just get her a shaman handbag to tote him around in right now? Like the ones her chihuahuas ride in, only bigger, and fitted out with incense cones and a cup holder for his Shamanatinis?
(Note: Because this is a quickly unfolding news event, it has since emerged that the Hilton heiress's guru is also an actor ... but whatevs. We're jumping ahead of ourselves.)
Our story begins at the weekend, when Paris was spotted out and about in Beverly Hills - accompanied by an unidentified mammal in desperate need of manscaping. But rather than stage a personal grooming intervention, Paris appeared to hang on his every word as the pair visited a spiritual bookstore, he blessed some stuff, and they left carrying a volume called The Path of the Painted Shaman, in that way that celebrities do when they want to telegraph where they're "at" to their rudderless public. This system works pretty well at present, although one day Geri Halliwell's going to chance her arm with The Wealth of Nations and the whole thing's going to collapse. Stick to self-help, Geri! Or My Friend Flicka.
According to reports, the guru told Paris to give away a necklace of indeterminate value to a passerby in order to cleanse herself, before giving her advice on good living. Wait: pursuing a life of night-vision humping interspersed with the odd spell in the big house is not the true path? Enlightenment's so judgmental.
Anyways, as mentioned, it has since been established that the shaman is also an actor, a fact that Paris may or may not have been aware of. Whichever, he joins a long and distinguished line of chiselling gurus from Rasputin to the Maharishi - and further appearances by the pair are rumoured.
Can you even imagine Tinkerbell's jealousy issues at this time? I hope they upped her doggy meds: I'd hate for her to have go through this unassisted by the good folks at Eli Lilly (selling you dog Prozac since 2007, kids!). Indeed, these are dark times for all the elite chihuahua force that Paris has been assembling in recent years - an army which, until recently, boasted 17 crystal-collared footsoldiers.
"They keep having babies," Paris told an interviewer a few weeks back, "and I feel bad to give them away because I feel like, if I had a baby and someone gave it away, it'd be mean."
Debatable. Alas, before Paris could usher the dogs into planned parenthood classes, the above disclosure prompted a visit from the Los Angeles Department of Animal Services. Apparently, LA law states that you are only allowed three dogs per address (that's some of that "small government" they're always droning on about in America).
"I only have 10 dogs now," Paris now claims, adding that she's having an exact mini-version of her house built for them to live in. "Some of my dogs had puppies, so I gave some of them away to people I really know and trust. I gave some to my stylist and to a few of my best friends, so now I'm down to 10." Or at least she is until she finds out about the frantic round of break-up sex that took place before the dogs went their separate ways.
But what of Paris's ferrets, and the rabbits, and Baby Luv, the kinkajou with tetanus-forcing behavioural problems? Turns out those guys now live on a ranch in Nevada. "I have a zookeeper who watches over them," she explains.
Oh sure, Paris's old pets "live on a ranch". Just like when your beloved childhood dog went to live on a farm. How could Whiskey break your special bond like that? Why didn't he ever send pictures of him with his new family? Why did your parents always look awkward when you talked about the betrayal?
Questions, questions. We all seek enlightenment in some way.
