Dear Mr. President, From Lily

(Occasionally I ask Lily, our little Maltipoo, to write a letter to the President. She is full of advice about anything canine. Her letters provide some much-needed levity when we get too serious.)

Dear Mr. President:  I’m so sorry that I haven’t written to you in so long after Commander left your company to be rehomed. I’m sure you are lonely with the weight of the world on your shoulders, wars everywhere, protests on the increase, and no favorite pet to console you and comfort you since Commander left. Sorry, but cats just don’t cut it, Mr. President; Willow is satisfied draping herself on your head as you sleep because she gets something out of it: a warm, smooth balding head with bulging veins, something like a threadbare electric blanket. She’s content. 

As I argued with you before, small dogs are superior for companionship, and you might want to look into getting one. I can provide advice on all the breeds if you wish to consult with me.  I was hoping you would have watched the Westminster Kennel Club Championships a few weeks ago. A posse of magnificent dogs pranced around like royalty at a coronation, and you might have seen a breed you’d like to own. I don’t think you watched the two-night extravaganza because the loss of Commander is still raw, and you had more important things to do like writing out detentions for Marjorie Taylor Greene, checking on Governor Kristi Noem’s membership in the Animal Protective League and investigating Senator Mendez’s unkempt closets. Oh my! You have way too much to do!  

So here are the results of the Westminster. Sage, a miniature black poodle won Best-in-Show!! I am very happy about that because, as I told you last time, I am half miniature poodle. The announcer said this little queen is named Sage because she is intelligent and wise beyond her years, you know, like a real sage. Like you. Wise beyond your years and that’s a heap of wisdom, I must say. However, I did not like the dramatic entry Sage made into the Arena. You should have seen it. Down the tunnel she came when her name was announced, not walking, not running, no—down she came fully ensconced in her handler’s arms!! Cleopatra on the Nile! Everyone saw it on the large screen. This has never been done before. I thought who does she think she is? The doyenne of all poodles? She might as well have entered in a horse drawn carriage! And you should have seen the hairdo. It was a bouffant at least one foot high!! It folded over her forehead almost covering her eyes. If I had a hairdo like that, I’d awaken every morning with a migraine! She had some kind of wings on either side of her chest; they looked like misplaced angel wings only they were black. And her legs? They were cheerleaders’ pom-poms or old-fashioned, bottle washers, the kind my Mam’s mother used to clean baby bottles almost a century ago!! I will grant you that Sage ran playfully around the arena, but I don’t think anyone could be sure she was a real dog. She looked like an animated toy, more like a porcupine with that bouffant and bottle washer legs, than a poodle. 

Now Mr. President, your favorite breed came in as a Reserve Best in Show. That’s a euphemism for second place. But she was a stunner!!! A gorgeous German Shepherd with a honey colored, light grey, and brown coat. She stacked regally and Mam said she was very obedient because she waited patiently for the treat the handler would give her. Her name was Mercedes. Mam thought Mercedes would win; she had bets on her. I was a little chagrined at that, being part poodle, but secretly I wasn’t keen on Sage either. We both liked her handler, though, a very kind man who is retiring from the sport.

My Mam always assures me I could win at any dog show, but I cannot participate as I’m not a pedigree. Mam says I’m not a mutt either, or mixed breed although she says they are healthier, longer-lived dogs. She prefers to call me a ‘designer dog.’ She says the poodle in me is smart and the Maltese in me is playful; she says I am the best of two worlds. That makes me feel good. I would never enjoy looking like Sage; I’m a tomboy in the canine species. And my Mam would never have the time to spend hours grooming me to those requirements. I love just being a dog running outdoors, exploring the woods on our walks, playing with my toys. This summer Mam will have me doing high jumps in our back yard, but it will be too late to qualify for the Olympics (which I know I could have done).  

Reflection

Mr. President, I hope you get another canine companion. But I don’t think even the kind, sweet, obedient Mercedes would work out. In her soul she is a protector. As soon as a stranger would come into your presence, she would brace for action. A small dog, like me, would escort the stranger to you. We would go into action only when you are threatened and don’t underestimate us!

Everyday I join the sisters at Vespers, and we pray for the all the needs of the world and especially for you. But I secretly lower my head and pray that you would find a wonderful canine companion, like Tobiah did, as told in the Hebrew Scriptures, for the journey he made for his father to Media. “When the boy left home, accompanied by the angel, the dog followed Tobiah out of the house and went with them.” (Tobit 6: 2) Imagine traveling with your best friend and an angel? Doesn’t get any better.

Sincerely yours, 

Lily

May all of you, my faithful readers, have a faithful companion, animal or human, to travel with this summer.