Dog Days for O

Talked About Like a Dog

Talked About Like a DogA bunch of us guys were lifting a few at the Hydrant, our favorite bar. The bosses had given us the day off since Labor Day means a backyard barbecue and some of us can’t hold our meat. (Did they really miss that rack of ribs I took last year? How was I supposed to know it wasn’t for me?)

Anyhow, the television was on and all of a sudden Barack Obama was on the screen. I hear him say “they talk about me like a dog.” All the woofing stopped at once and every ear in the place perked up.

“Son of a …” the usually quiet Akita started before the Scotty stepped in.

“Stop right there! Don’t talk about our moms like that,” he said. “Besides, maybe he really meant to say ‘dogged’ or ‘they talk doggerel,” he suggested.

“No,” said the poodle, who was still burning over the Tony Blair lap poodle analogy. “He means it in a negative way. These people are so politically incorrect I could barf,” he said.

“Take it easy,” said Splash. “Don’t get your leash in a knot. My boss Teddy was called a horn dog and I think he liked it. Although I kept his leg away from me whenever I could.”

“Just thank God you’re not Bo,” said the shepherd. “How’d you like that gig? The guy can’t even walk a Portugese water dog,” he said as he lapped his Heineken.

“Why even the Dog Whisperer’s jaw drops seeing that you know you’ve got a bigger problem than saving the House in November,” added the chihuahua. “And you can kiss those Blue Dogs there good-bye, by the way.”

“That Barack better hope he never gets stuck in a well or an avalanche,” said the St. Bernard. “What rescue dog worth his kibble would go help him out after this? And by the way, I need another brandy, the cask is running low if you know what I mean.”

“Like the economy,” said the lab, who never missed a chance for a leap in the conversational pool.

“Well, the way it’s going we won’t have him to kick around anymore in two more years,” said the cocker spaniel.

“If I were Bo I’d watch my back,” said the lab. “Remember what happened to Buddy? Not long after Clinton left the White House Buddy was ‘impeached.’ Right on the front of a car.”

“If he knows what’s good for him he’ll slip out of the House the next time the Missus is on vacation,” said the dachshund. “And we know that could be any other day,” they chortled.

“Better go home and rattle some cages,” said the terrier. “Besides this place closes in a few minutes. Meet you all back on Hump Day.”

“This time let’s keep that TV off. Or at least on Animal Planet. Next thing you know they’ll be saying the country’s going to the dogs.

“They should be so lucky!”

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