Sniffing Political mastIFFS, Glands and Butts

Tail of the dog

My press ID wearing collar of shame (photo selfie by author)

Hey y’all!

I’m from West Virginia. Born in a litter of long eared, yappy black and tan raccoon hounds.

A canine cop found me in a holler chasin’ bunnies ‘side the road.

I had one paw in puppy happy hunting grounds at a shelter where a trip over the rainbow bridge was waitin’ if I went unclaimed.

Sometimes it’s easier to not know what might be coming- sort of how I view the presidential campaign.

It’s a miracle this news hound is here at all to share my views on the race for the Big White House.

A truck from a Salem, MA rescued me, drove me up north, and my new family cares less about politics. They’re done hearing me whine and yap at TV political news.

Chasing squirrels, turkeys, rats, chipmunks and skunks qualifies me as an expert on varmints. I can sniff a smoky stinker a country mile yonder.

Here’s the straight poop on how I see things in the presidential campaign:

First: the Democrat.

This Delaware fella who’s in that big White House reminds me of Uncle Dunk, who moves slow, walks stiff, sleeps a lot and forgets who I…