I Was the President's Dog . . . Almost
Canine Candidates for the Trump White House Job Tell All
Why doesn’t President Trump have a dog? A dog is historically the most common White House pet. Every President since 1900 has had at least one dog, except for Harry Truman and Donald Trump. (To be fair to Truman, he did briefly try it.) Given the villainy of some of our dog-owning presidents, it’s clear that News Vac’s favorite bit of dog wisdom hasn’t held true in all cases. Still, we stand by it: Never trust a person who doesn't like dogs; but, always trust a dog who doesn't like a person.
News Vac has learned that President Trump actually was persuaded to consider a dog at the beginning of his second term—if only for image maintenance and public relations. Considering nothing but the depths of Trump’s germaphobia, this is remarkable. It turned out to be a short-lived idea, however. Just a few dogs were “auditioned” at the White House, none were chosen, and that was it. Oddly, no one involved wanted to discuss it with us—which inflamed our idle curiosity into a full-blown vision quest that would end only when we had our story. Our big break came in the form of a half-joking question from one of our DC-area insiders: “Have you talked to the dogs yet?”
It turns out that our insider knows a pet behaviorist who claims to converse with dogs. If we could locate the dogs who had visited the White House, our insider and her behaviorist friend would try get the dogs’ story. We found all of the dogs (there were four) at the same nearby shelter, and then our run of good luck kept right on going: the behaviorist knew most of the staff there and had no trouble springing the dogs for a day in her care. What follows is taken from a transcript of the conversation between the dogs and the behaviorist. Some background: they are all male and around 3-4 years old. All had lived with families before and were only reluctantly surrendered to the shelter. Also, they know each other and get along famously. They are good boys, every one of them.
Behaviorist: Let’s get started, shall we? Does anyone need to go potty? Is anyone thirsty? [Background sounds indicating that everyone is ready to go]. You’ve all asked to remain anonymous, and we’ll respect that. Now, let’s raise our paws first and take turns when we’re talking. Okay—did you have any idea where you were going that day, and that you could have become a White House dog?
Dog 3: I’ll take this, if the guys don’t mind. [Background sounds indicating assent]. We didn’t know exactly what was going on at first, but we knew it was big. We got baths off the regular bathing schedule, and we got our teeth brushed extra clean. Next day, we were led out the front door, so we figured we’d be riding somewhere in the shelter van. But then a big, black important-looking car showed up and we jumped in. Maybe it was a test to see if we tear up nice cars. We’re not puppies, so we knew all the car-rider rules. The car smelled like McDonald’s, which is not a complaint. I found an old fry in the wayback. Not bad, but you really have to eat McDonald’s fries while they’re hot. We heard the guys in the front talking, and pieced together that we were headed for the White House. By that time, we were almost there.
Behaviorist: So, you arrive at the White House, you park, you unload, you go inside. I assume you’re all on leashes. Am I right so far? [Background sounds of agreement]. Okay, just where in the White House did they take you?
Dog 4: Frikkin’ Oval Office, baby! The big leagues! We still didn’t know why we were there, though. They got us settled down near a desk right outside the Oval Office. Some young people were standing around us and smiling. They seemed nice. We were being extra good. A few minutes go by, and then they took [name redacted] inside. We knew then that this was some kind of test or audition.
Behaviorist to Dog 1: Tell us about your experience in the Oval Office.
Dog 1: I’ve got to say that it was really hard being the first one in. [Background sounds of commiseration and support]. I get no direction from the people in the room, so I’m desperate to figure out what they want. Give me something, people. I hate awkward silences, so I did some tricks—rolling, sitting, offering to shake hands, walking on my hind legs. I guess they’d seen all that before, so I pulled out some party tricks. I showed them my pink lipstick. I spun around in a circle while I licked the places they can’t reach on their own bodies. I did a little carpet scooting. I finished up with the Curly Spin. I guess I misread the room, cause I was in and out pretty quick. When I got back with the others, I warned them: “No party tricks.”
Dog 2: I follow the news, and I knew it was still early days for this administration. I surveyed the room, and I noticed a small pile of stuff off by itself, stacked against a wall. It was clearly some of Biden’s things—you know, odds-and-ends from the high shelf of a closet or the far corner of a drawer. Anyway, I went over and dropped a steamer right in front of the pile. I wanted to show them that I was politically aware, and also a team player with the new guys in town. I held back, too; I let out just enough to make a statement. I thought they’d get it—but no. Well, I’ve always been lucky with firm movements, if you know what I mean. This was easily a one-Kleenex job, but they made a huge thing about cleaning it up—bags, gloves, sprays, loads of paper towels. After that, I didn’t really stand a chance. Maybe I should have crapped right on top of that pile.
Dog 3: I didn’t get a good vibe at all in that room. I smelled a mix of fear and opportunism. Us guys, we’re strict adherents to the way of the pack. [Background sounds of agreement]. We look out for each other. The people in that room, they were mostly in it for themselves. There were a few dog kickers in there, too. I could feel that. No, thank you. [Background sounds of agreement, with “Fuck that” clearly audible]. I’m not saying the whole place sucked. Like on the way in—the White House Police, the Marines, the Secret Service: all solid people who’d probably be down for some fetch if I brought a stick over to them. A semi-big thing: I never saw any kids, which always means fewer snacks and very structured playtimes. I like to mix it up, you know. Call me weird, but if some little girl wants to dress me up and have a tea party—well, I’ll do it. [Background laughter and teasing, with “Freak,” and “TMI” clearly audible]. You never know where that kind of thing will lead. There might be some real food involved—but I will eat the plastic stuff, too. There could be a nice nap on a people bed at the end of it. Maybe a kid would style my fur and give it a good brushing. What’s not to like? You have to stay flexible and open-minded. Good things will happen if you do. Overall though, I wasn’t enthusiastic about the place, and it must have been obvious.
Dog 4: You all know that my name is [name redacted]. I don’t really care for it, but whatever. Call me [name redacted] for short if you want—just as long as you call me for dinner, right? [Background laughter]. I bring that up because while I was in the Oval Office, they were saying that the President’s dog needed a name like Freedom, or MAGA, or maybe Scrapper. Then someone suggested Sleepy Joe, and that got a big laugh. I’ve got some hound in me, and my eyes are a little droopy in a sleepy sort of way. Fair enough. But they started running with this Sleepy Joe idea. That panicked me. If that was going to be my name, I knew I’d be on their social media doing humiliating stuff just so these guys could keep poking away at the last administration. You know the phrase “sore loser,” right? Well, these guys were coming across as sore winners. You’ve got to let stuff go, am I right? [Background sounds of agreement]. Anyway—and this is big—I’m distantly related to one of the Biden dogs! I just had to make sure that I wouldn’t be chosen. There were two females in the room. I humped one of them—vigorously. They tried to pull me off but I slipped away, ran over the other female, and stuck my snout as far as I could up her skirt. That stuff will get you sent to your crate every time. The females hung around for a bit longer, because you can’t display any weakness or vulnerability around these kinds of people. After a respectable couple of minutes, they walked out at normal speed. As soon as they were gone, the guys cracked up. Two of them fake-humped each other. It was sort of funny I guess, but not my kind of humor. The female I humped looked really kind, and I hated myself for doing it to her—but this place was not a good fit for me.
Behaviorist: Gentlemen, this is all so insightful. I’m truly privileged to hear your stories. Are there any takeaways or final thoughts?
Dog 1: Can I have this one, guys? [Background sounds of assent]. We’ve talked a lot about this back at the shelter. Clearly, none of us were chosen, and I’m guessing the Trump White House will never have a dog. He, I mean Trump, was never into it. He was in the Oval Office that day, but way off in the background. He never said anything, but we could tell where he stood on the question. There’s lots of talk about how he can’t tell the truth—but he did this time, and we have to be grateful for that. We all want to get out of the shelter and have a family, but not in that way. I want a kid who loves me [“Yeah” and “Me, too” clearly audible in the background]. Maybe one of those grandmas who fuss at you but still sneak you goodies [Background laughter]. We have each other at the shelter and the food is okay. Not many dogs make it to the White House, you know. So, we’ll always have a great story to tell, no matter what happens next.
Editors Note: We have learned that the behaviorist was so touched by the wisdom of these four dogs that she adopted all of them. They often sit in on her dog counseling sessions because they’re so good at getting patients to open up. Although their fame has grown dramatically among DC-area dogs, it has not changed them at all.