Miss P is a four-year-old beagle from British Colombia—a fully grown adult, by dog standards. On Tuesday, she won the top honor in her field, the Westminster Dog Award for Best in Show. A legacy attendee—her granduncle, Uno, won the prize in 2005—Miss P was considered an outlier nonetheless, and statistically speaking the odds were stacked against her: Uno was the only other beagle to be chosen in history. And, crucially, most of the dogs the dogs pitted up against her were men.

Yet despite clawing her way to the top and garnering the most prestigious title of any dog on earth, Miss P's keepers, Lori and Kaitlyn Crandlemire and Eddie Dziuk, are opting her out of any future she might have had that capitalized on this honor, whether as a rare touring representative of her breed, or on the speaking circuit, imbuing inspiration in beagles and their allies, or—and correct me if I'm wrong here—from doing anything she would possibly want to do with her newfound fame and fortune.

Now that she has won, Dziuk and the Crandlemires are retiring Miss P from her career after a brief press run in order to have children—"breed," as they so insouciantly describe it—causing a blow to dog lovers worldwide who sought to uphold Miss P as an example of the one beagle who could have a career and children without compunction. This move is inherently antifeminist.

Upon her win, Miss P's handler, Will Alexander, described her as such: "She is a princess," he said. "It's all about her. She thinks she's the biggest dog in the show." His statement was, ostensibly, proud; but it also cast her in the same entitled light that has been used to discredit powerful women throughout the ages. Princess; diva; these words are interchangeable, and carry an inherent threat, loaded with the notion that too much acting up will result in a thorough dressing down.

USA Today describes Miss P as having "barked in agreement" at Alexander's comment. This is journalism at its shoddiest, and most clearly anti-bitch—presenting an un-fact-checkable occurrence as a matter of the official record. How can we really know if Miss P's barking was "agreement," or if it was dissent? To imply this is to infer that Alexander, and Miss P's keepers, have her best interests at heart by retiring her from her "princess" perch, that they know what Miss P wants better than she knows herself. Miss P does not have the luxury of a room of her own.

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Further, the irony is not lost that part of Miss P's Westminster honor was predicated mostly upon her appearance, and the press was focused upon that. Betty-Anne Stenmark, one of the show's judges, commented, "She was so smooth, so cute. She was just perfection." David Merriam, another judge, said Miss P had "a wonderful head." The New York Times wrote about how she "did not exhibit the palpable charm" of her male predecessor. Keri Savage was one of the few attendees to comment on Miss P's temperament in a gender neutral way, telling the LA Times, "She's really chill."

For decades, we have fought for our right to have both career and family, if that's what we want—the option to choose one or the other or both is still a luxury begat from recent history—only to be constantly bombarded with messages that the decision is not up to us, but to society, or to our handlers. Miss P may be the most celebrated dog in the world right now, but she's still not getting a fair shake.

Symbolic Miss P on a chain image via Getty.