No Caddies In The White House

Luky is back. He showed up for Father's Day. Apparently he's been on the lecture circuit throughout Europe and saw a good international flight deal offering 1st Class accommodations to philosopher canines, and he took it to be a sign that it was time to visit home . . . plus, he was running low on Milk Bones and the most recent shipping laws have hampered the receipt of his usual crate full.

We sat down to watch what we believed to be the final round of the US Open from Torrey Pines Golf Course. It turns out that the final round required an extra 19 holes on Monday, June 16, 2008, so we've been enjoying plenty of catch-up conversation.

He knows I've been very depressed of late. I always tell him it is largely due to his absence, but I think he knows I'm just pissed off about how we've let this country die. His inquiry about Father's Day was a valiant effort to change the subject, but it only reminded me of one of my regular thoughts about a former President in whom I actually believed.

"I feel really sorry," I said, "for George Sr."

"Oh, why is that?" he asked, though I think he knew where I was generally headed.

"Well, I feel like George Sr. is an intelligent man who took an extraordinary measure of integrity, and even wisdom, into the White House with him. In many ways, he honored and served all of humanity just as we would expect the leader of 'the most powerful nation on Earth' to do. Indeed, I believe his post-Gulf War vision was far grander than many of us ever realized, and it was a vision that - with any proactive effort whatsoever - would likely have changed the planet!"

"Well, he's still got a lot of followers throughout Europe," Luky dropped the hint that there might be other topics to discuss.

"The problem is, especially on Father's Day - not that you are necessarily up on human family trees or homosapien holidays - but I cannot help thinking this must be a terribly painful day for George Sr."

Luky has obviously picked up the habit of pointing at raised arms during his lectures. He raised his paw in my direction - which I took to be a request that I elaborate on my comment.

"Think of the internal conflict he must have felt," I began, "even back during the first big race in 2000. We have to assume that Senior would not have wanted to stand in the way of this great honor to his son, and yet he must have known the job was too much for a kid of Junior's limited intelligence and integrity. And then on top of it all he was forced to watch his own legacy - everything associated with the family's name in America - turn to ash, sullied with the filth of thought and action resulting from Junior's choices, many in direct opposition to the more honorable philosophies envisioned by his father.

"I mean things like the support of secret torture houses and just the practice of torture . . . who could ever have dreamt that the United States would become a member of the evil empire? Certainly not George, Sr., who seemed to stand for everything to the contrary!"

"For all you know," Luky interjected, "those revelations were surprises to your President as well. Maybe all of that was the work of someone else, like Dick."

"All I know is that this administration has been full of the rhetoric of the flag and freedom while doing everything in its power to undermine this country and what it used to stand for . . . and along the way, destroy the legacy of this President's very honorable father. Things like our wholesale attacks on the Geneva Convention and almost any other internationally recognized code of moral conduct, not to mention the secret, persistent and illegal assaults on the personal freedom and privacy of our own brother citizens. And then, remember what was perhaps the most egregious singular example of affront to his dad . . . the purposeful effort to endanger the lives of some of our most vital servants, and untold secret and vulnerable connections, through the exposure of Valery Plame Wilson. That action is particularly heinous in that Senior himself defined it as the paradigm of treason. . . . and then to sit there and promise to prosecute the guilty party . . ."

Luky has the knack of getting more and more thoughtful and contemplative with every new erg of frustration I express. He was being very quiet now. He finally spoke up and asked if I wanted to go mark some shrubs. I could not tell if he was joking, though he was right to assume that my state of mind would easily permit my taking a liberal wee on the world.

"I think the country will survive this administration," he said softly after a few minutes of silence.

"Well, the country is one thing - and we'll see if you're right - but given the holiday I also think about the family. I used to think about the kids of Presidents and what they must go through. It's odd to find myself feeling such sympathy for the father of one!"

"I will say one thing," Luky's voice raised a bit to offer a new thought, "you know my Lupine friends usually raise and keep fools within their packs to diffuse tensions. I guess it's somewhat the way humans once retained court jesters to relieve animosity and discord."

"You're right," I said. "I've seen that behavior many times on Animal Planet and the Science Channel. Maybe we aren't that far removed from the wiser species." I smiled at Luky expecting him to return the expression.

He pursed his lips, pushing air through his whiskers as he is wont to do just before an important comment.

"The only difference," he said, "is we usually keep our fools close to the pack so as not to endanger us all with their idiocy. We would never think to promote them to the highest position in the nation."

"Right," I said, looking back at the TV to watch Tiger strategize his final birdie putt so carefully it felt like a laser was cutting a line into the green from his ball to the hole. "Man, I wish Junior had stuck to the amateur leagues and stayed away from the pros. And I'll bet his dad does, too."