As the new President was led by leash to the podium, the inauguration audience cheered him on saying, “Good Prez!”
So devoted are we Americans to our canine companions, especially our miniature ones, that we recently elected a toy poodle President. It was an easy victory for the little dog, whose name is Darling, since his opponent, a plump, irascible Rottweiler, wasn’t even remotely cute.
At his inauguration, the new President was led on a leash to the podium, where, in lieu of a speech, he squatted down and pooped. “Good Prez!” declared members of the inauguration’s audience while Darling’s official groomer cleaned up the poop.
Shortly after he took office, hundreds of the President’s admirers began taking photographs through the White House fence of him scampering around after squirrels on the White House lawn. Some took photos of him attacking a garden hose, probably because he thought it was a snake, and a few even tried to take selfies with him through the White House fence.
At one of the first cabinet meetings, the President ran over to a window and began a series of high-pitched yips, yipes, and yelps that seemed to bristle with anger.
“I bet there’s a bunch of killer dachshunds out there,” observed the National Security Advisor perhaps in jest, but perhaps not.
“Or a migrant who speaks only, who knows, Sanskrit,” said the Secretary of the Interior perhaps in jest, but perhaps not.
When not yipping and yiping, the President would sit on the Vice-President’s lap and gaze up at him with his big round baby eyes. Even if no one else loves me, thought the five times-divorced, gun-toting, born again VP, at least our little Prez does.
At a meeting with NBC’s “Meet the Press” moderator, Darling rolled over and played dead, which, according to the White House press secretary, indicated the way he felt about the news media when he wasn’t given a chew treat.
After several months in office, our nation’s leader began leaving loose stools all around the White House. He became extremely lethargic and often vomited on cabinet members or on the VP when sitting on his lap. He also seemed to have lost his appetite.
At last he was brought to the veterinarian-in-residence. “Our chief of state has got a real serious virus,” the vet declared, adding, “Even his cuteness isn’t gonna help him any.”
A few days later later, the President rolled over in the Oval Office and, instead of playing dead, he turned out to be actually dead. No more Prez in my lap, lamented the VP. A short while later, he was born yet again as our country’s new leader.
The nation was greatly upset by Darling’s death. There was not one, but two days of national mourning, with flags flown at half-mast and all federal offices closed. The burial took place in the Arlington National Cemetery rather than, as certain uncharitable individuals had hoped, in a pet cemetery.
In conclusion, let me say that Darling was the first U.S. President, but probably not the last, to die of canine distemper.
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