I can’t wait to see how they spin this one at Newsmax. We’ll probably see a stack of severed body parts and blood drenched steps in the West Wing. Major Biden, the 3-year-old German Shepherd, is known for jumping and being aggressive and apparently he bit or tried to bite somebody in the White House, so he and the older dog, Champ, are going back home to their Delaware digs. CNN:
“I’ve been getting obsessed with getting our dogs settled because we have an old dog and we have a very young dog,” Jill Biden told Kelly Clarkson last month during an appearance on “The Kelly Clarkson Show.” “They have to take the elevator, they’re not used to that, and they have to go out on the South Lawn with lots of people watching them. So that’s what I’ve been obsessed with, getting everybody settled and calm.”–Biden also said the only place the dogs are not allowed is on the furniture, though she admitted to catching Major on the couch. “They run all over,” said Biden.–A person familiar with the dogs’ schedule confirms to CNN they are in Delaware, but noted they have been known to stay there with minders when the first lady is out of town. Biden departed Monday afternoon for a two-day trip to Washington and California to visit military bases.
The Trumps didn’t even have a pet goldfish, if memory serves.
The Trpmpador mightn’t have had a pet goldfish, but he did have Devin Nunes (and possibly his cow)
Younger dogs do get excited sometimes, and do things they shouldn’t do. And people sometimes make mistakes in handling them.
Dogs can be pretty protective so I cant help but wonder if Major went after some right wing asshole who happened to be saying unkind things or shooting disapproving looks at one of our folks he knew and liked.
Long ago, in November 1975 I recall my mutt Ruff and how he won my dad’s affection. Dad never liked Ruff, and years earlier was upset when as the last of the litter to be given away I didn’t want to part with him so my mom told the folks who were going to adopt him to go home. That he’d be staying with us. Ruff was one ugly ass puppy to be sure. But I loved him and so did my friends. Part of me will always wonder if during that month he was gone it was my dad’s doing. (Ruff disappeared and I spent every day after school exploring and looking for him and dad was pretty uncomfortable at my distress. I think, since his job with the state required him to drive all over southern Illinois that he took Ruff along with him one morning before I woke up and left him fifty or even a hundred miles away. Well, one night in the middle of the night I woke up to shouting and a dirty, stinky Ruff was on my chest happily licking the side of my face! Wherever he’d been or more likely dumped, he somehow found his way home!) Anyway, years later when mom got lung cancer and was in and out of hospitals she was newly back home after some time up in St. Louis. “Aunt” Jerry and “Uncle” Frank (he was actually her cousin) came over to the house. My family was messed up to say the least and relations with my mom’s side were virtually nil my entire life when it came to those who actually lived in our hometown. Uncle Frank was a nice enough guy but his wife was a real asshole so I was fine with the limited contact with them. What happened during that visit which cut it short was my mom of course had stopped smoking. Aunt Jerry didn’t care, and after complaining about no ash tray and using the coffee cup she’d been drinking from for one kept blowing smoke in mom’s face.
Mom was clearly uncomfortable and politely as she could coughed and eased back a bit. Aunt Jerry ignored that and kept leaning in. Meanwhile I was sitting on the other couch in our rather large living room and Ruff was on my lap. I of course couldn’t look in his eyes but if they were lasers I’m sure he’d have bored holes through Aunt Jerry. But I kept a light hold on him because his hackles were raised and he was softly growling. I even looped the fingers of my left hand lightly over the top of his collar for good measure. Not tightly enough as it turned out.
It was clear from early on, even before the blowing smoke in mom’s face he didn’t like Aunt Jerry and she’d made some disparaging comments about him. As I said, she’d started using her coffee cup as an ashtray and almost took a drink out of it before complaining. She glared at me, in a “go get me another cup of coffee type look and I just glared back at her. Finally she stood up and complained about having to go serve herself and started walking through the dining room (another large room) to get to the kitchen.
Ruff sprang into action, LEAPING suddenly from my lap. He ran right up to her and bit her on the back of her calf. Once. Not bad, but enough to draw a bit of blood. Ruff then turned right around and jumped back into my lap and head head was pointed straight at her as she yelled and complained. She made all kinds of threats and railed about rabies and I defiantly held out the rabies shot tag on his collar and said like hell she’d have him put down! She gather up Uncle Frank (who was fighting not to smile I might add!) and stormed out in a huff. She of course never made good on her threats.
The cool part was what happened later that night when dad got home. Ruff was still sitting on my lap although much more relaxed, and before I could tell him the story he’d gone into his room (mom and dad hadn’t slept together for years) but my sisters both went in to tell him what had happened. Dad’s voice like mine could carry and I heard him say “Ruff did that?” Followed by all kinds of praise for him! Dad fully opened the door to his bedroom (it was off the living room) and talked directly to Ruff with about the biggest smile I ever saw on his face, praising him for being such a good dog. He actually sat down on his bed and called Ruff to him. Even more amazingly, Ruff who normally kept his distance ran in there and jumped on on the bed with dad. Dad even invited Ruff to sleep in his bed instead of mine. And after that sometimes Ruff did!
The point of the story again is that dogs can both tell who the assholes are, and will protect the people they love. Ruff protected mom. And made a friend out of my dad in the process. Even now, all these decades later the memory of that event brings a smile to my face. I know it’s wrong to enjoy someone suffering an injury, even a minor one like my “Aunt” did but I still say she had it coming. Ruff, like Corky and Sparky would have gotten themselves killed trying to protect me if they thought I was in danger from another person. Dogs can be like that. Treat them well and you get back unconditional love. And if necessary far more.
So again I wonder just who it was that Major went after. I understand he’s young, energetic and a handful and likes to roughouse. But if he went into attack mode I truly think it was for a reason – that someone that mattered to him was being treated badly and as I’ve noted it doesn’t take physically attacking a master or friend for a dog to go into protection mode.
The closest the Trump family came to having pets was the bedbug infestation at one of their resorts.
Bedbugs suiting the Trump brand better than other animals.
To be fair to Major, if I had to put up with all the commotion and protocols of the White House I’d start biting people too.