Barney -- the White House is in the dogdrums -- and you have to get out of Laura and George's way. They're busy. Packing.
You're moving to Texas -- to Dallas-- they bought you a lovely new home, a couple of poop scoops, his and hers, and a new house rule -- you have to hold it!
No, there won't be any presidential aids lurking around every corner watching over your every move. Just George in the middle of the night running around in his underwear (not Ralph Lauren) frantically trying to find you.
You better clean up your mess -- the one President Bush, under your watch got us into. They say your bark is worse than your bite. Why didn't you warn him? Pull at his socks and lead him to Osama Bin Laden?
Why didn't you shake the fleas off your back and onto his legs to get him to end the war in Iraq.
Were you drugged with liver treats and do you need rehab? Is there a Twelve Steps Program for dogs and their owners?
A few more questions before you go... please!
Were you loved, adored and admired? Did you serve as Laura's hand muff when temperatures dropped.
Did you survive the vast amounts of herbicides and pesticides on the White House lawn and gardens? Do you have the dog equivalent of Parkinson's Disease?
Are you shaking at the thought that a puppy, most likely a male, is going to alpha-up and steal your favorite place in the White House? Even if you mark your spot -- an old and neutered Scottish Terrier will not attract a young pup. Sorry -- I know that hurts.
Did you hide a bone and if so did you give it a proper burial?
Are you ready to wear an original, custom made piece of western wear a Nudies original, a pet pal version of a 45 colt packed inside a holster?
And will you promise to bite not bark at every reporter that comes to the steps of your new home.
Barney, maybe your move to Dallas won't be that bad. Neiman Marcus awaits you. You will have pet privileges and no doubt will receive plenty of kind strokes from perfect strangers.
Barney, you had better behave so you can teach George some new tricks. And by the way, if he ever tries to kick you out on a cold winter's night, just raise your left leg and your right eyebrow, growl and let it rip.
Maybe you can stay. Become a member of Obama's new cabinet, lie on the floor and find the source for all that wire tapping. If you do--you might win Best In Show.
No! That award goes to a Bull Terrier for best in breed.
Good luck Barney. You've been a Braveheart.