Sneaky Pie for President (20 page)

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Authors: Rita Mae Brown

BOOK: Sneaky Pie for President
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The about-to-be citizens often knew the Constitution better than those who had the supreme good fortune to be born U.S. citizens.

A national treasure such as Monticello can operate only with the help of many people, people who give their money and their time. Legions of humans visited Mr. Jefferson’s home in 2011, and most left with a sense of what life was like in the late eighteenth century and early nineteenth century. They took away some sense of Mr. Jefferson himself, his family, the slaves, so many of whom had highly developed skills, often promoted by the master. Slavery, sanctioned by the Old Testament, by thousands of years of human endeavor, and currently alive in parts of the world today, nonetheless left a troubling legacy visible at Monticello. Recognizing this and various thorny historical matters, the current director and Dan Jordan, the immediate past director, were to be congratulated. How easy to deny, dodge, gloss over this fundament to success?

The two cats and dogs discussed the past as people filed in, taking their seats, breaking out little paper fans. Most everyone who was well acquainted with a Virginia summer wore a hat.

The C.O.’s old truck was parked down at the Bowman and Neuhoff house under a shade tree, windows open. The animals had long since slipped away, of course. That Leslie Bowman and Court Neuhoff didn’t care that a beat-up truck was parked among the gleaming BMWs, Mercedes, Jaguars, was a statement in itself. Mr. Jefferson would have approved their egalitarianism.

The cats in the tree could more easily hide than the two dogs. Tucker and Tally, staying quite still, had crawled under nearby thick bushes to observe the proceedings.

“He had a wolf by the ears.” Pewter pronounced judgment on Mr. Jefferson’s slave owning.

“They all did. Even the North had slaves for a time,” Sneaky agreed.

“Why did they get rid of them?” the gray cat wondered.

“I don’t know. Too cold, or they were too cheap to feed them. Having a wage slave is a lot more clever. You sell them goods from a company store so they get in hock; if they can’t pay for them, you dock their wages. They have to find housing, much of which is owned or was owned by those companies. They pay rent. Right? However you look at it, being poor and powerless is painful,” the tiger cat
said. “And that’s why we have to organize. When we falter in our duties, we’re killed, a lot of us. I don’t know, maybe that’s better than what happened to the humans in the old days. They were left to starve.”

“Either way, it sucks,” Pewter succinctly replied.

Tally crawled a little closer to get a look.

“Get back here,” Tucker ordered. “Someone will see your nose.”

Tally wiggled backward. “There are so many people.”

Tucker blinked her eyes. “You sure can smell the cheap perfume and cologne.”

“Oh, it all smells awful, Tucker. Even the expensive stuff like Creed and Amouage.”

They lay next to each other, giggling.

“Our C.O. always worries about money, yet she’ll go out and spend hundreds of dollars on that stuff.” Tucker sighed.

“That’s because they’re irrational. I do have to give that to Sneaky Pie. Dogs and cats are a lot more logical. Perfume?” Tally’s eyebrows raised. “What about that old lady who collects bone china? I mean, she lives in three rooms full of boxes of this expensive china.”

“One of the C.O.’s great-aunts. Did you know some of that china is worth umpteen thousands? Some of it is as old as Monticello.”

“What good is it if you don’t use it?” the Jack Russell pointedly replied.

“None that I can tell. Bet Mr. J. had fine china.” Tucker thought for a moment. “We caught a glimpse of it when we walked through the dining room.” The corgi then added, “Wonder if Sneaky Pie is getting nervous?”

“If I stood next to her at the podium, she’d most certainly be cool, calm, and collected.” Tally knew she was the best running mate, just knew it.

Noncommittally, Tucker said, “Perhaps.”

As welcoming remarks settled the audience, the main speaker followed. Being asked to give the Fourth of July address at Monticello was a singular honor. Presidents may or may not be invited. One couldn’t buy one’s way into this extraordinary moment, but many tried to use influence to be the main speaker, a mighty boost to a political career. So said the C.O., and Sneaky had been listening closely. The selection process applied more rigorous standards than being elected to public office. In some critical fashion, the human in this position needed to embody the spirit of the Declaration of Independence. In years past, that included military people, members of the judiciary, even entertainers who had been born elsewhere and who had then become U.S. citizens themselves.

Year after year, the main speaker reached out to these
new citizens, as well as reaching back to the noble ideals of Mr. Jefferson.

Next, the oath of citizenship was read over the microphone by a high-ranking judge. The applicants stood and agreed to the terms. Each new citizen, name read aloud, mounted the dais, was greeted by those on the dais and given their citizenship papers. Of all annual public ceremonies, the Fourth of July at Monticello may be the most emotional.

Emotional or not, Tally felt the prickle of boredom.

Knowing her friend, Tucker advised, “Be still.”

“I’m thirsty,” said the Jack Russell.

“You’ll have to wait, plus, we have Sneaky Pie’s address after this,” the wise corgi said.

“Does every single new citizen have to walk across the dais, shake hands, and take a piece of paper?”

Putting her head on her paws, Tucker replied, “They do. Why don’t you take a nap?”

“A nap? With all these people? What if someone needs help?”

“I’m sure security is up to the task.”

“Security can’t chase mice. You know how terrified some people are of mice. And what if a snake slithers out of the garden? There will be panic and mayhem.”

“Just rest your mind.” Tucker felt this was impossible. Tally fidgeted more by the minute.

“Look at those colors,” said the Jack Russell, as she edged closer to the edge of the bush. “Look at that lady. She’s beautiful. Look at how the breeze blows her dress. You know, a strong wind could tear her clothes off.”

“Tally, that woman is from India. They dress in better colors than our ladies do.”

“Yeah, but what if she winds up naked? She’d be so upset.”

“I doubt the men would mind.” Tucker noticed, as had Tally, that the young lady was exceedingly beautiful, but then, most Indian women are.

After shaking hands with the justice, the woman moved toward the end of the podium and the steps. A stronger puff of wind did lift up the back of her sari, but there were many layers of vibrantly colored thin fabric like gauze.

“I’ll save her!”

“Tally, no!” Tucker tried to bite and hold Tally’s hind leg, but the little dog wriggled away.

“What the hell?” Sneaky cursed as she watched the rough-coated little monster jump up to the woman as she exited the stage.

“I’ll save you,” Tally barked.

Fortunately, the brand-new citizen, perhaps twenty-five, liked dogs, so she leaned down to pet Tally, now the center of attention.

“I’m going to be a vice-presidential candidate. I’m going to save America!”

“Not before I kill you first!” Sneaky, enraged, spat so loudly that the birds above her cussed her out.

“I told you she’s an idiot,” snarled Pewter. “Born an idiot. And she will die an idiot when you kill her, of course.” Pewter adopted her all-knowing pose.

Since the dog had no intention of leaving her, the Indian lady scooped up Tally. She returned to her seat, devil dog in her lap, to the cheers of the assembled.

Sneaky saw from her perch, however, that Leslie Bowman was not cheering. The Monticello director recognized the dog, wondered how the animal had snuck into the ceremony, and at that exact moment would have happily throttled the C.O. Steering a national event like this required steady nerves. Fortunately, the director was equal to it.

Leslie’s daughter Haley ran down to the house, where the C.O. was putting out centerpieces of red, white, and blue flowers on each small table. Flags flew everywhere, and at each place setting there were, rolled up, small Stars and Stripes.

“Your dog is—” Haley breathlessly began. “She’s—” She thought for a moment, hoping to be diplomatic, as her parents had taught her. “Intruded on the ceremony.”

“Oh, no.” The C.O. immediately followed Haley up the hill.

As the two women trotted, then ran to the back of Monticello, Court Neuhoff, a medical person, was ministering to a gentleman from Nicaragua whose son had become a citizen. In his excitement to embrace his son, he rose from his chair, sat down again, because one wasn’t to greet family and friends until every single new citizen was back in their seats. Fidgety like Tally, the man stood up again, but slipped and came down, hitting his metal folding chair hard.

“Sneaky, maybe you should wait until next year,” Pewter suggested.

“But the presidential election is this year,” the tiger cat snapped.

As soon as all were at last pronounced U.S. citizens, everyone stood up, hugging, kissing, and congratulating.

Haley spied the Indian lady surrounded by her parents and friends. Tally was next to her on the ground.

No fool, Tucker stayed away.

“Ma’am, I am so sorry.” The C.O.’s face was red. “I think she wanted to congratulate you before anyone else.”

“She’s adorable,” the young woman said in her light, beguiling accent.

The C.O. would have argued that point, but not now.
She knelt down, picked up the dog, tucked her under one arm, and with her other hand fished in the pocket of her summer skirt, pulling out a card.

“Ma’am, please call me.” She handed the lady her card and addressed her family and friends. Virginia hospitality always made her friends. “Please let me make this up to you all. I would love to have you all out to the farm for a celebration dinner. My friends would be happy to meet you.” She paused. “There are a lot of other animals.”

They smiled politely. The young woman petted Tally, then hugged the C.O. She was so thrilled to be a new American. “I will,” she said.

The people began to walk down and away from Monticello. The citizens and families headed for the director’s house. The horses hung their heads over the fence line.

All the way back, the C.O. seemed preoccupied with how she could apologize to Leslie. She met up with Liz Blaine, the right-hand person at Monticello.

Not one iota of shame, Tally greeted her. “Hello, Miss Liz.”

Liz couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re in the doghouse.”

Back up at Monticello, the mice emerged from the dome. Some hurried down to a good high spot where they’d have a commanding view of Sneaky’s much-anticipated speech. Others, using claws, perched atop the dome. The humans lagging behind the departing crowd didn’t notice them.

The birds moved closer, and Art, the Red-shouldered Hawk, had flown up from the farm. Hawks had a large cruising range. Chipmunks appeared. The squirrels sat on tree branches. One by one, dogs had been arriving from the farms surrounding Monticello.

Once the people left, Sneaky and Pewter backed down the tree. Tucker crawled out from the bushes.

The tiger cat raced to the dais and climbed up to the lectern. The microphone was easily swung over the top of the podium, where she now sat.

Sneaky Pie looked out over the assembled animals and began: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all living creatures are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.—That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Sentient Creatures, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed,—That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these Ends, it is the Right of the Living to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.”

The animals listened intently. Not one little peep or squeak punctuated the address.

Sneaky Pie continued: “Friends, on this Fourth of July, I
wish to announce my candidacy for the presidency. I promise with the help of Providence to establish and maintain a natural balance between all living creatures: predator and prey. I promise to cherish the earth, the waters, and the air. I cannot promise to end human wars, but I can work mightily to avoid them. I promise hope for the young and comfort for the aged. For all of us in between those two poles, I promise a great common cause, first expressed by the human who lived here: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

The animals applauded in their individual fashion. This message would be carried, like all great messages, from living creature to living creature. Powerful as the electronic media is in all its forms, nothing great happens without the spark of hope being passed from one creature to another.

Having arrived at her empty truck, the C.O. came searching for the rest of her family, accompanied by the pest Tally herself.

Upon reaching the back of Monticello, Tally raced away, yelling at the top of her lungs “Vice president. I’ll make a great vice president.”

Sneaky calmly announced to the crowd, “Please take into account that she is a Jack Russell and this is my human. As for a running mate, I have much to consider. I do not, however, think it will be a Jack Russell.”

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