The World According to

Fräulein Effie

Simplicissicanis

A Doberman’s Editorial on Keeping It Mostly Together While Surrounded by Humans

  • I’m Fräulein Effie.

    Doberman by breed. Cultural observer by circumstance.

    I do not write—I dictate. The human tasked with transcribing these thoughts does so voluntarily and with full awareness that I may, at any time, replace them with someone more suitable. Consider this collection a courtesy.

    What follows is my lens on the modern world: its inconsistencies, its indulgences, its misplaced optimism. I offer it not as critique, but as guidance—for those willing to elevate their lives beyond chaos and snack-based decision-making.

    Welcome to my world.

    Keep your voice down. And your spine aligned.

Everything you ever wanted to know about your Doberman’s thoughts on you—

and the très regrettable state of the world.

Simplicissicanis

The Doberman Editorial
-authored by Fräulein Effie

From the Grammophone of Fräulein Effie

Occasional Music for the bien élevé Doberman Owner

Playlist: Chanson Noire

An ode to the présence you might not have asked for—but can’t live without.

  • 🎙“Where Else Would I Be”
    performed by: Liliane Marot

    I follow you—not because I must,

    but because I see what you miss.

    You think it’s habit, I call it grace—

    knowing the world could vanish like this.

    Where else would I be,

    if not pressed to your side?

    There’s no elegance in distance,

    no strength in the wide.

    They say space is polite—

    but who taught them that lie?

    (beat)

    If you wanted space,

    you should’ve gotten a cat.

A study in patience, miscommunication, and the quiet triumph of Doberman judgment.

  • 🎼 Title: “And Still She Stood”
    by: Clotilde Marchand

    You counted to three,

    and three turned to five.

    Repeated commands

    like bees in a hive.

    “Sit, madame, sit”—

    you begged with a smile,

    then barked like a sergeant

    Who’s lost all his style?

    —

    You whispered, then yelled,

    then bribed with a snack.

    She blinked, unimpressed,

    and turned her sleek back.

    A queen in repose,

    immune to your plot—

    your volume went up,

    and still she stared back.

    —

    You thought you were clear,

    that tone equals rule.

    But Dobermans don’t

    obey a fool.

    Not when the energy’s

    wrinkled and slack—

    you train your voice, dear,

    then she’ll sit back.

    —

    You wanted a soldier

    who jumps at each shout.

    But you bought a diplomat

    with well-trained doubt.

    She’s reading the room,

    not jumping on cue—

    perhaps the one

    who needs training…

    is you.