Brrrrr… Kristen and Daisy in their squall jackets. After a week of temperatures in the double-digits below zero, it’s finally fit for human and beast to be outside. Nothing like a Minnesota winter!

Pre-Ramble: Hi, it’s me Daisy… resident canine and guest blogger extraordinaire. So, tick, tock … ’tis the day before Christmas and Mom is in the other room frantically trying to wrap presents. I want to be supportive, but really, when that is going on, you just have to gather up the chew toys and head out of Dodge.

From where I sit, it’s essentially a logistics issue. Usually short on time, Mom will try to cut corners, which just increases the likelihood that she will cut the paper too small. Then she’ll run out of tape or lose the scissors. And then there are the packing materials. Mom saves “good boxes” all year long for just this occasion. She’s an animal… rifling through the closet  trying to unearth just the right sized box for this or that, but invariably, there is nothing appropriate to whatever it is she’s trying to wrap. She probably wouldn’t want me to mention this, but in addition to good boxes, she also saves “good bags” and “good ribbon.”  These prized specimens reside in the wrapping closet along with rolls of decorative paper and random party decorations. 

If you read the blog posting about “lists” (12/3), you probably have an inkling of the depth of dysfunction going on over here, in this case regarding packaging materials. It’s sad really. And a fire hazard. All those bags and empty boxes filled with tissue - or worse - packing peanuts. I could write an entire treatise on the dynamics of packing peanuts (which are basically inedible, so what’s the point?). Suffice it to say that, since they are also not biodegradable, we corral them into a giant garbage bag until it is full enough to take over to be recycled at the local packaging store. The length of time it takes to rid the premises of the temporarily indispensible, but ultimately unwanted packing peanuts can be staggering. Dragging the unwieldy bag of styrofoam out to the car and then over to be recycled is a multiple-step process and colossal hassle.  Just because we have successfully captured the freakishly wily packing peanuts in a secure container doesn’t mean that they will make it from the house out to the car. Accordingly, just because the bags have been hauled out to the car, doesn’t mean that we’re in the mood to drive them over to the recycling shop. We can have bags of packing peanuts in the back of the Yukon for months, even passing by the recycling shop several times before actually pulling over and shepherding them through the door.

The Take-Away: There’s no take-away here, although, I’m sure Dad would be grateful if you would take away some of these boxes and bags. In her defense, even though Mom has an affinity for boxes, bags and other peripheral packing materials, it’s not like we have 40 cats living in the house  (believe me, you would have heard from me on that). These items are organized, stored in a respectable manner, and generally retrievable upon command. The fact is, a beautifully wrapped present can make a huge difference in the overall impact of the gift exchange experience. According to perennial wrap diva, Martha Stewart, “beautiful gift wrapping sends a message of thoughtfulness that is as important as the gift itself.”  I suggest using bacon-flavored rawhide chips as gift tags .

There’s going to be a new puppy in the White House! 

The Pre-Ramble: Yup – President Elect Obama told those darling daughters, Sasha and Malia, that they could have a new puppy when they got to the White House. He said it out loud in front of a couple million people, so there’s really no turning back.

The tradition of pets in the White House began with George Washington who apparently received a dog named “Vulcan” as a gift from Revolutionary War hero, Marguis de Lafayette. Most recently, of course, George W’s “Barney” graced the White House lawn … preceeded by the Clinton’s “Buddy” … and before that, Barbara Bush’s best-selling author, “Millie.” Other lessor known first canines include Herbert Hoover’s “King Tut,” Richard Nixon’s “Checkers,” Jimmy Carter’s “Grits” and James Garfield’s ”Veto.” Margaret Truman had an Irish Setter named “Mike.”

The Possibilities: This begs the question, what kind of dog will be appointed to the 44th Presidential Household? Have potential candidates been campaigning for the position? Patriotic Pet Tricks, perhaps? Do we bring in 10 or 20 dogs and vote one off every week? Somehow, I’m not seeing Beverly Hills Chihuahua, and despite the charming literary characterization of “Karl the Dog,” a big ol’ rottweiler doesn’t feel right either. A Rhodesian ridgeback would cut a fine figure around the White House, and bred to tree lions out on safari, they could work foreign affairs when needed (think Medvedev out on a limb in the Rose Garden). The smart and agile border collie could run back and forth across the aisle, herding all manner of stray creatures. A fiesty, cute-as-a-button beagle would bring a lot of energy to the party, but the howling and barking every time the doorbell rings may grow tiresome. A couple of labs and a tennis ball would have a field day on the National Mall and could shred documents in their down time. The downside here is, while labs are rambunctiously wonderful, they have a knack for getting into the trash. The last thing we need is coffee grounds and bacon grease all over the oval office.

Clearly, there are a number of appealing options. According to a report by the BBC, Michelle Obama is advocating for a rescue animal and a recent survey by the American Kennel Club selected a “pedigree poodle” for the First Family. Tamar Geller, a California-based celebrity dog life-coach, “is confident that the Obamas will choose a rescue dog.” (For my tax dollars, a “celebrity dog life-coach” makes Sarah Palin’s Neiman Marcus tab look pretty tame.) Early polling shows that the Obama’s dog may, in fact, be a rescue “goldendoodle” – a non-shedding part golden retriever, part poodle, meaning less likelihood of allergens for sensitive humans and less fur flying in Air Force One. 

The Take-Away: There’s no real take-away from this little romp; the good news is there’s probably already a doggie-door in the White House and enough room in the federal budget for a bonus bag of rawhide bones. Whatever the top choice, we’ll want to vet the options thoroughly to make sure there are no scandals buried out back. I’d also strongly recommend beefing up security with an Invisible Fence. Daisy received a zapper collar for Christmas last year (see above) and has not roamed out of the yard since. (I’m thinking that this may have been useful during the Clinton administration, although a rolled up newspaper to the snout may have been just as effective… on Bill, not Buddy - you should never hit a dog with a newspaper.)