I will never be president. Not just because I’m a dog, or even because I’m a black dog, but because of the animals I have once known and do now know.
When I was growing up, I used to hang with some dogs who had anti-small dog opinions; very, very strong anti-small dog opinions. We grew apart eventually as their families moved. I never shared their opinions, but they were nice company on warm summer evening walks.
Then, a rabbit moved into our home… and died unexpectedly. So did a hamster, turtle and Guinea pig. There were investigation and people looked at me in a strange way, but nothing was ever proven. Still, people whisper. I had nothing to do with them dying, but there will always be talk.
And lately, I am living with a cat who lies on her back with her paws in the air. I don’t see anything wrong with it, but others find it offensive. And, Lady eats poops from the litter box.
And, of course, there are the eight or so cats I consort with at my office.
But, I am still me. And I like each of my friends for different reasons, though we each see the world a little bit differently. But, it appears, though, that I could never run for president because of who I know, not because of who I am.