As bad as politics is in the mortal world right now, I try not to get involved. But then I learned of a situation that begs for some Yorkie influence.
I call your attention to Fairhaven Vermont in Rutland County home of the fighting Ruttles. For the past two years, they have lived under an authoritative regime administered by an ignorant loudmouth orange face dictator. Of course, I can only be referring to Lincoln, the goat.
It has been a hard two years for the good citizens of Fairhaven living under a despot who is against any legislation that aids dogs, cats, or other household animals. No matter how well the dog and cat council does in explaining their legislation, the mayor's reaction is inevitably a braying neigh.
I received many prayers to help the woebegone dogs and cats living under the iron-fisted rule of Goat Lincoln the First. The pups and kitties only ate the most basic food filled with additives, preservatives and by-products. Their treats were hard and tasted like cardboard. Meanwhile, the barnyard animals got the finest oats, barleys, and whatever else they ate. I could only help them so far. They needed a dog to rise.
I searched for a dog to run for mayor with the same fervor I used when I looked for a new pup after I went to the Bridge. I slipped into the dreams of a King Charles Spaniel named Murfee. He had deep brown eyes, a beautiful smile, and a sparkling personality. The voters would love him.
Unfortunately, Murfee showed no interest in politics. He was happy sitting at home with his parents eating stale treats and bad kibble, as long as he had a soft bed and a warm lap to snuggle. I knew I had to take drastic action to get Murfee to run for office. I brought him with me as I visited the other dogs in Fairhaven. When he saw some of them hungry and others unhappy, he knew he had to act. I solidified his feelings when I brought him to the barnyard, and he witnessed everyone living high off the hog. He vowed to make the lives of dogs and cats better and to get all those animals off the poor hog.
A debate was quickly organized. Murfee was prepared and professional. Lincoln was obstinate and unrelenting. While Murfee gave long, thought out answers, Lincoln answered each question with "bah!" or "neigh." His barnyard supporters, a group of pigs, asses, and chicken supremacists, (Make the Sty Stink Again) insisted he was telling it like it was. Murfee went door to door to meet the voters. Lincoln stayed at home, tweeting "BLEAT" ten times a day. As soon as it was posted, it was liked and retweeted thousands of times.
I don't know if it was because Murfee was a strong candidate or the voters were suffering from Lincoln fatigue, but the dog won in a landslide, an avalanche, a rainstorm, and a small fire started by the mice in the woodshed. Lincoln had to be dragged out of office when he refused to move. Reports differ on whether he refused to accept the results of the election or if he was just acting like a donkey.
The citizens of Fairhaven are resting easier tonight with a smart, savvy, and cute Mayor who is treating everyone kindly.
No matter what happens, you can't go wrong with a dog in the oval dog crate.