Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Bo, The Dog Talks!

From Bo, The First Dog (via Britain's Telegraph):

So there I was, name of Charlie, minding my own business. Next thing I know, I'm being told I'm to become the First Dog Of The United States (FDOTUS) and my new name is "Bo". Do I have a choice in the matter? Nope, I'm just a pawn in a bigger game - news of my existence traded between the New York Times and the Washington Post in return for a lame story about the White House vegetable patch. At least I know my value.

Before I can say "Woof", I'm being primped and preened and prepared for the big "roll out" on Tuesday. No time to read myself in or familiarise myself with the "issues"of the day. Not even a proper background check. And who are these new "minders" sent to supervise my every move? Now I know how Sarah Palin felt.

And what's with this name "Bo"? It's been put about that I've been named after a cat owned by Malia and Sasha's cousin. That would be bad enough but I'm reliably informed that my new owner is Barack Obama - "the One". Check out those initials - B.O. Geddit? Bo. It's always about him.

Could have been worse, I suppose. These past few days I've been hanging out with three other Porties, names of Sunny, Splash and Cappy, owned by a big fat Irishman called Senator Ted Kennedy. I mean - Splash? I may be a dog but I know my history. Poor canine can't go for a walk without hearing a joke about Chappaquiddick.

Talking of "the One", apparently I'm his first broken campaign promise. Well, thanks for that. He said he'd get some kind of shelter mutt and then he changes his mind and comes up with me - a Portuguese pure bred. Talk about sky-high negatives before you've even started.

Trust me, this will all end in tears. These Obama people have never even owned a dog and - I'm being frank here - I just don't trust these Democrats. What happened to the last pets they had in the White House? That cat Socks got dumped on Bill Clinton's secretary Bettie Currie and his dog Buddy got mysteriously run over by a truck.

Add that to the Curse of the Kennedys and, mark my words, the first time I cock my leg on that swingset I'll be on my way to the big kennel in the sky.

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