Well, well, well, it looks like I'm a campaign issue again. The other day, Debbie Wasserman Schultz (God love her!) mentioned me on Fox News Sunday.
Debbie doesn't know this, but the crate episode wasn't the only time Mitt strapped me to the roof of his car. Before that, when the family took a summer road trip from Massachusetts to Oregon, they couldn't find my crate, so Mitt spread-eagled me on the roof and tied me down with bungee cords along with six tennis rackets, four polo mallets and two boxes of Mitt's favorite hair gel. How comfortable do you think that was? After barking didn't work, I tried tapping Morse code with my paw on the roof surface, but nobody responded. I guess their CD player was too loud. Mitt and Ann were singing show tunes from their favorite Broadway musical, Cats.
I hate show tunes and Mitt sings like R2D2 with a sinus infection.
Of course, the roof was better than the trunk, which is where they stashed me on another trip. I'm afraid of the dark. This time, they kept me inside a piece of carry-on luggage along with some of Mitt's starched blue jeans, a copy of The Dummies Guide to Campaigning and five pairs of Gucci loafers. I took a dump, so I think that was when they decided that the roof would be a better place.
But I don't feel so bad. The Romneys once had a cat named Whiskers (clever name, right?) and they locked her in a piano bench for two weeks because they said she was musical and liked it there. That wasn't as bad as what they did to their pet canary named (can you guess?) Tweetie. He ended up in a Tupperware bowl in the freezer. They said he liked being near ice cream.
Mitt did other stuff that bugged me. He used to tell me to fetch, and then he'd make like he was going to throw the tennis ball, but he didn't. That pissed me off, so I peed on his shoes. What a jerk.
I was the Romney's dog for a long time. I was there when those five idiot boys were growing up. Think Three Stooges plus two. Oh, and that business about how Ann raised a family? Total dogshit, pardon the expression. They had three nannies, a cook and a housekeeper. Ann spent her days shopping and having martinis with her friends Muffy, Patsy and Pookie. I think she had an affair with her tennis instructor because I once found a man's tennis shoe in her closet and it wasn't Mitt's size. I picked it up in my teeth and brought it to Mitt's closet, but he didn't catch on. Mitt's a little dense.
I'm not sure, but I heard a rumor circulating in Doggie Heaven that the Romneys are planning on getting a female Chihuahua. Mitt can't win the election unless he gets some Latinos to vote for him. He's such a moron -- does he really think getting a Chihuahua and naming her Rosarita is going to make any difference? Somehow, I don't think he's planning on tying that little oversized rat to the car roof.
She should fit nicely in the glove compartment.
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