Bichons, Lhasos, Weimaraners, lend me your ears. I just got off the phone with Senator-elect Scott Brown to concede the election and congratulate him on a well run race. He promised to take me for a ride in his truck. I have never been in a truck. If Mommy and Daddy had bought me a truck I might be Senator-elect, but this is no time to look back in anger.
I would also like to thank Attorney General Martha Coakley on a race run. I have heard much criticism of her performance and I take exception. She did a commendable job for someone who cannot speak the English language, suffers from severe vertigo, is unable to find Massachusetts on a Texaco road map, and thinks Raider Sinica is a Yankee fan.
Then there is Joe Kennedy, the Labrador Retriever who adopted the Kennedy name I rejected and ran as an independent. He did not get many votes, maybe a few more than me. I would like to take this moment to remind him that the Tanner Brigade gets the yacht the last weekends of July and August.
I do think I cost myself some votes when I vacillated over the weekend. I tried to drag a throw rug over to cover it, but soon my vacillation was exposed in public. It is true that I did ask voters not to vote for me on election day, but that was because I did not want to influence the election in a negative manner by drawing votes to what was nothing more than a vanity candidacy, and I was afraid that my Saturday night tryst with a matted beagle, a randy Siamese, and a snout full of Foleytinis would be portrayed in a negative light.
(As well it should have. We got jiggy with it.)
Today we are left to reflect on the meaning of the election of the century of the week. During my campaign I have been told what humans want is change. But while my fellow candidates spoke, I stayed under the table, waited for food to drop, and listened. (Editor's note from Foley: She was peeing.)
This country is broken. Now I've broken stuff before. And I don't know how to fix things. But I can break it in a whole new way. Take a chair for instance. Say Foley and I were playing. We run into a chair, knock it over, and break the arm. Mommy is made because her chair is broken. Foley and I swear to change the chair while she is out. When Mommy goes to the store we chew the leg off. We changed the chair. But when Mommy comes home she's still mad. Because while we worked really hard on the chair, and we changed the chair, we didn't fix it.
What people need is a fix they can believe in. Ironically I did not learn this until after the election is over. Maybe a guy in a truck is someone who can fix it. But I doubt it. Nothing against him but until the non truck driving men (and women) there realize it's not just about change, but about fix, stuff is going to stay broken.
I do have one suggestion. We have given humans 235 years of bringing change and not fixing much, maybe it's time for us dogs to run things, so in 2010, vote for Canines for Change. We'll fix stuff (unless there's a rabbit, or a squirrel, or a warm spot in the sun, then all bets are off.)