Pat Buchanan called me up one day.
This is slightly misleading: in fact he was
calling in response to a question I had left on his answering machine.
I'd told the female electronic voice that I was a National
Public Radio reporter asking if the Buchanans still had the cat I
had read about in 1996.
I was planning a radio survey of candidates' pets for NPR's
Weekend Edition Saturday. But when the call came from Mr.
Buchanan himself, I thought that this man had more on his mind
than promoting his candidacy. I warned him I was at home and
that my tape recorder was broken. He didn't care. He started pouring
out so much heartfelt detail about his cat – name of Gipper –
that I could hardly get a question in edgewise. This man is a cat-lover
first, politician second.
Gipper is a tabby, aged 14, a gift in 1984 from a friend who
had been Mrs. Buchanan's matron of honor. "She bought him for
thirty-seven dollars and fifty cents!" Mr. Buchanan told me, implying
by his tone that this was an incredibly low price for a magnificent
animal like Gipper.
| But when the call came from Mr.
Buchanan himself... He started pouring
out so much heartfelt detail about his cat – name of Gipper –
that I could hardly get a question in edgewise. This man is a cat-lover
first, politician second. |
In fact, Gipper is something of a miracle cat. A few years ago
he was severely ill with leukemia. He got well "after the 1996
campaign" when the Buchanans stopped giving him the prescribed
drug. More recently, Gipper developed cancer of the thyroid. But,
thanks to a treatment center called Radio Cat, he again recovered.
He now weighs 13 pounds and is going strong. Mr. Buchanan
boasted, "He's tougher than Jesse Ventura!"
Politics is, of course, part of Gipper's routine. He comes to
senior staff meetings, asking Mr. Buchanan to pick him up. And
the cat has taken great pains to flatter the Secret Service men parked
in a motor home outside the house. Mr. Buchanan told me "The head of the detail warned me the other day, 'If Gipper brings us
one more chipmunk, bird, baby rabbit, lizard, or mole, we're going
to report him to the SPCA!'"
It's clear, then, that the Buchanans did not have their cat
declawed, which is more than you can say for our current president.
Mrs. Clinton recently told the world on TV, and without a
hint of remorse, that Socks was declawed years ago – probably to
save the White House furniture.
Buchanan must just be the right person to step into Ross Perot's
shoes in the Reform Party. After all, during the 1996 campaign,
Mr. Perot had told a TV friend of mine who was interviewing him
for 60 Minutes that "I wouldn't trust George Bush [senior] to take
care of my cat for the weekend."
Did Perot actually have a cat? "I don't know, Ma'am," one of
his Washington volunteers told me. "But if you ask, it must be
important." (Gosh! Reporters rarely get such courtly treatment.)
The next day, a young woman called me from Dallas. "This is
Tracy calling from Perot Petition Committee, United We Stand,"
she told me, shyly. "Mr. Perot had a cat, but she passed away last
summer." Her name? "Honey." What color was she? A horrified
silence, then a possibly improvised answer: "Honey-colored!"
Cat-loving independents who are weepy over John McCain's
retreat may want to think again. The McCain cats have all been
declawed. There are four of them: Safari (black and white), Cuddles
(calico), Smoky (gray), and Oreo (you guessed it). But McCain
himself may not be the anti-claw member of the family. Perhaps it
is the soignee Mrs. McCain who prefers furniture to cats. In general,
the McCains are certainly animal lovers, with 32 pets if you
count the 13 saltwater fish, two parakeets, and one gecko. When I
read the definition of a gecko – "a small, harmless, nocturnal,
insectivorous lizard" – to NPR's Scott Simon, he thought this might
apply to certain members of Congress, too.
| Politics is, of course, part of Gipper's routine. He comes to senior staff meetings, asking Mr. Buchanan to pick him up. And the cat has taken great pains to flatter the Secret Service men parked in a motor home outside the house. |
The McCain aide who divulged these pet details was my favorite
of all the staff members I called. When I asked how big Leo,
the McCains' pet king snake, was, she hesitated, then said: "I assume
he's the normal size for a king snake."
George W. Bush may have claimed the top Republican spot,
but his pets cannot compete in numbers with the McCain menagerie
that also includes Jumbo and Bubba the miniature Dobermans,
Spicy the rabbit, Casper the albino snake, Henrietta the
iguana, Water Boy the water turtle, Cochise the horse, Fluffy the
hamster, and Tiny the mouse. But Bush and McCain are still neck
and neck in one respect: each has a springer spaniel – the McCains'
Sam and the Bushes' Spot.
Spot began life as one of those unnecessary puppies born to
the Bush's White House dog Millie, who dictated a book to Barbara
Bush praising "family, faith, and friends." I consider this book
pompous, although I suppose the sins of Millie the mother
shouldn't be attributed to Spot, the son.
A point which could tell in W's favor is his obvious love for
his three cats: India (black and white and nicknamed Willie, although
female), Cowboy (black and long-haired), and Ernie (orange
and white). Bush Jr. tells anyone who will listen how much
he misses his cats while out on the stump – although he rarely
mentions the dog. All the Bush cats are neutered, none declawed.
As for the Democrats, the name of the Gores' black Labrador
retriever, Shiloh, could get them in trouble on the order of the
Confederate flag fracas. But a letter from a listener informed me
that Shiloh is not only the location of a Civil War battle, but of a
dog in a novel and a movie. The Gores also have a gray-and-white
mutt who wandered in to their Tennessee farmyard "very thin and
tired." Her name is Daisy and everybody loves her. (In Found Dogs,
by Elise Lufkin, Daisy is said to have been rescued by one of the
Gore kids while they were on vacation at a lake in Tennessee.
Tipper took Daisy to the vet and then brought her back to Washington
on Air Force Two.)
Bill Bradley's candidacy never really took off, maybe because
he has no pets. Or perhaps his insistence on personal privacy regarding
religion, etc., might mean he has a pet, but refused to
exploit it for cheap political advantage.
As for the other also-rans, Alan Keyes had a golden retriever
called Jason of the Golden Fleece, who died last summer at the
age of 12. A campaign worker told me that Mr. Keyes and his
wife and children are still heartbroken over this loss and have not
taken on another pet.
| Rating the candidates as to their pets rather than their politics
is easy. Pat Buchanan wins the prize for pure love
of an animal. |
And the Steve Forbeses? I was told that they have 50 chickens,
all of whom are pets, and that Mr. and Mrs. Forbes regularly "play
with them" and feed them every day themselves. I was so surprised
at this information that I forgot to ask if Forbes cleaned out
the chicken coop himself.
Rating the candidates as to their pets rather than their politics
is easy. Pat Buchanan wins the prize for pure love
of an animal. After I spoke with him I couldn't help
wondering what a Buchanan presidency would mean for cats as a
special interest group. With a real, hard-core cat freak in the White
House, anything could happen. A Planned Parenthood for Cats
drive? (Gipper has, I learned, been neutered) Life imprisonment
for cat molesters? Gipper as Attorney General?
Wait a minute: Vote for Pat Buchanan? Me? Why, my friends
would never speak to me again! But I don't know: Cats make
strange bedfellows.
Alice Furlaud, a writer and broadcaster, lives on Cape Cod, Massachusetts
with her cat, Miss Pudding. Air Fair, an anthology of her
NPR features, was published by Gibbs Smith Publishers in 1989.
Memo to the Candidates from the editor
Hey, Guys: We're delighted that you're all taking good care of
your pets but would like to point out that none of you, to the
best of our knowledge, has taken your professed love of animals
much further than your own pets at home.
We'd love to see you step forward and show some concern
for the plight of homeless animals. And we'd rush to the polls
if any of you took issue with experimentation on animals or
any of the major industries – food, fashion, science, entertainment,
etc. – that exploit animals for profit.
We should add (before all our readers write in to remind you!)
that cats live longer, healthier lives when not allowed to roam
out of doors on their own; that all pets should be adopted
from shelters, not bought from stores; and that exotic animals
are not suited to be pets.
And finally, to George W: Your animal-friendly feelings seem
to be confined to the indoors. Outside, you won't be winning
any votes from the local duck population!
