| Jacquielynn Floyd: Is this any way to treat a First Pet? 01/13/2001 By / The Dallas Morning News One of the outgoing White House staff's final chores is to downplay reports that Socks will get the boot when the Clintons move out. Someone may have realized that the final official act of the First Persons needs to be something more statesmanlike than dumping the cat.
White House spokesmen were saying late in the week that Socks' future remains undecided, despite earlier reports that the First Pet will be turned over to Oval Office secretary Betty Currie.
Hey, how about some gratitude? During Socks' two White House terms, he was stalked and badgered by paparazzi. He met with official guests, hosted an online virtual tour of the executive mansion and suffered through photo sessions wearing a dopey bow tie.
He had his own fan club, received thousands of letters, was the subject of a half-dozen children's books and maintained a dignified silence when he was caricatured by political cartoonists. A pretty impressive resume, especially in light of my experienced observation that cats, as a rule, are the laziest creatures God ever made.
Socks' performance was impeccable, in fact, except for his chilly reception of the president's exuberant Labrador retriever, Buddy. Official photos document the hostility between the pair, Buddy lunging forward, straining at his leash; Socks hissing, his back arched and his tail bristling like a porcupine.
How can you blame him? Socks had seniority.
Born under a porch
A cat of humble beginnings – he was born under the porch at a Little Rock house where Chelsea Clinton took piano lessons – Socks spent most of his adult life in the White House. Now 9 years old, he's developing that floppy paunch that comes with feline middle age.
I consulted Jonnie England, executive director at Operation Kindness, a no-kill animal shelter in Carrollton, about the degree of difficulty in finding good homes for middle-aged cats.
"It's pretty hard," she said. "People tend to want kittens."
Jonnie said a cat in Socks' position requires a sales pitch with a little pathos:
"I'd say, 'He's 10 years old. He's only lived with one family, and now they're moving and they don't want him anymore.'"
The staff, in fact, managed to adopt out more than 75 adult cats in December alone, so if Ms. Currie doesn't want Socks, he could do worse than land at Operation Kindness.
But of course, he's a celebrity. White House pets have always had a kind of executive cachet, going back to George Washington's horses and hounds.
Animal kingdom
In fact, all but six of our presidents have kept animals while in office. The White House has been home to mice, turkeys, goats, rabbits and hamsters. There have been lizards, an alligator, raccoons, a badger, a snake and a sheep that chewed tobacco.
William Howard Taft kept a cow named Pauline, and the taciturn Calvin Coolidge, surprisingly, maintained a menagerie of domestic and exotic animals including a pygmy hippopotamus and a donkey named Ebenezer.
But history is largely silent on the fate of these pets after their owners retired from the highest office in the land, though a few achieved lasting fame.
Washington's noble stallion, Nelson, performed so admirably in battle that he was retired to graze the verdant pastures of Mount Vernon for the rest of his life (for $2, you can tour a barn in Lebanon, Conn., where he once spent the night).
Likewise, Socks is entitled to what all cats crave: peaceful surroundings, affection, comfortable furniture and a clean litter box.
Socks deserves no less. He has served his country well.
|
