Posted on 04/14/2009 7:55:42 PM PDT by SJackson
Dear Diary:
Today, I officially move into the White House. As the new First Pet, I should be thrilled. But I have mixed feelings.
My first meeting with the Obama family was so-so.
The First Lady, Michelle, patted my head (too hard) and joked (too long) about the Hawaiian lei I was forced to wear that day.
"Girls, isn't Bo adorable?" she asked her daughters. "He looks like he's wearing a tiny boa! Doesn't he remind you of the pigs we saw in Honolulu last year?"
Who the hell is Bo? I thought. My name is Charlie. And while I have nothing against flamboyant Polynesian swine, I am a Portuguese water dog.
I wanted to bite someone but I playfully wagged my tail.
The other morning, while awaiting another round of obedience training, I thought about my seafaring ancestors.
They once joined fishermen on the dangerous waters, diving into the chop to retrieve this or that. They were gritty and indefatigable. They accomplished heroic feats with fearless resolve and no fanfare.
Now, centuries later, I was about to embark on a life of vapid photo-ops. Soon, I will be loitering inside the Briefing Room. Or maybe you'll find me napping under the desk in the Oval Office as my master poses for a Vanity Fair spread, all rolled-up sleeves and "Yes, We Can!" posturing.
Without a doubt, I will be expected to bolt across the South Lawn to greet him each time he climbs out of Marine One, so he can drop to a bended knee and swoop me up in his arms as the cameras are rolling.
For a boisterous, hardworking dog like myself, these prospects are about as appealing as life inside of Paris Hilton's Chanel purse. Thinking about it, I coughed up a Milk-Bone and soiled the silk sheets Senator Edward Kennedy had placed inside my wicker basket just before giving me away.
What can I expect in the months ahead? Well, during the vetting process – "Charlie, bark twice if you have ever played fetch with a known terrorist!" – I had occasion to drink from a toilet with a competing Labradoodle, who put me in touch with Barney, the former First Dog.
I reached Barney outside of Houston, where he was hunting with George W. Bush.
"Charlie, I think it'll be easier for you," Barney confided, over the sound of distant buckshot. "My guy used to ask me questions about foreign policy when nobody was around. Then he would get bored and say I was a Scottish terrier, so I should chase him around the West Wing while pretending to be the Loch Ness Monster. It was exhausting."
I nervously licked my paw as Barney continued.
"Look, Adams had an alligator. Jefferson had a grizzly bear. Rumour was that Eisenhower taught his Weimaraner, Heidi, to tap dance during the Suez Crisis. And we've all heard the stories about how Clinton used Socks the cat as an icebreaker when chatting up new female interns.
"Every president is different and we never know what to expect."
The thing is, I do know what to expect.
"Listen, Bo," my new master recently said, as he studied his reflection in the back of a spoon. "You're gonna have a great life with us. You will eat organic kibble and get plenty of media exposure. Just remember: you are no longer a Portuguese water dog."
Confused, I barked, rolled over and looked up into his reassuring eyes.
"Bo," he continued, smiling broadly and tickling my belly with one shoe. "You are now a symbol of hope and change. Don't disappoint me."
B O
Don’t take it out on Bo, they’re nice dogs, though I suspect this one will get his exercise chewing his way through the White House and digging in Michelle’s garden.
I feel sorry little Bo having Obama as owners LOL!
That too funny ROFL
Just a little fun in rather sometimes an anxious world. Hope the usual suspects who write in to the Star do not call for the writer's head. LOL
Good one.
I’ll just do the simple....... FUBO !!!!!!!!!!!!!
My dog said she would like to have 5 minutes with that Whitehouse pile of dog crap called Bo.
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