Dog Days at Trump Tower

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It’s family meeting time.   In the great tradition of presidential families, the Trumps have decided to adopt a White House pet.

Donald wants a Rottweiler that’s trained to protect him. ‘Calls it a “Rottweiner.” He doesn’t see much point in a dog if it’s not for protection.

The First Lady wants a pair of ocelots with diamond studded collars.

Tiffany suggests a Cocker Spaniel until Ivanka reminds her that she doesn’t get a vote.

Ivanka winks at Jared and says, “How about a Russian Wolfhound?” Everyone howls with laughter.

Wearing matching plaid shirts, Donald Jr. and Eric stroll in to cast their votes for a huntin’ dog. They don’t see much point in a dog if it’s not for huntin.’

Melania quickly withdraws the ocelot suggestion. “King Charles Spaniel, or maybe a poodle?”

“What do you want, Sweetums?” she asks of Barron.

“Sweetums” is glowering into his root beer float. “I told you before, I want an Alpha Romeo. ‘Don’t want no dumb dog.”

“Of course Sweetums wants a dog; every little boy wants a dog!” Melania coos soothingly.

“Stop coddlin’ the boy, Mel!” the old man barks, so loud that FLOTUS jumps straight out of her designer stilettos. “If he doesn’t want a dog, that’s fine with me.”

“Seriously, Daddy, a Russian Wolfhound is ve-ry fashionable!” Ivanka wraps her long arms around POTUS thick neck and pouts prettily.

“I could start a new line of canine couture…,” and she quickly messages her Chinese supplier for a quote.

“That’s my Princess;” Donald smiles approvingly, “Always finding the big marketing angle! It’ll be huge! A total winner…only nothing for Nordstrom! They don’t get a thing. Damn bunch of Hillary loving Democrats!”

“Okay; an Irish Wolfdog it will be!” says POTUS, slapping his knee. All three boys sulk and glare at their stunning sister.

Tiffany deliberately picks her teeth while staring intently into a pocket mirror. “Male or female?” she asks innocently.

“Male, of course!” All four Trump men speak in chorus.

“‘Don’t need more bitches, Dude!” adds Barron.

“My boy!” POTUS reaches out to tousle the lad’s hair as he quickly ducks and runs to mother.

“I think we’ll call him Vlad.”

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