DANGEROUS TIMES
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Day Two

1/21/2017

 
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Rhode Island Rallies for Democracy

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Jan. 21, 2017
   
​   I WAS ONE of the thousands upon thousands of ladies, and the guys who love them, who went to the Rhode Island edition of the Women’s March on Washington today.
   And no, I didn’t wear one of those little pink pussy-ear hats. 
    Now, before you go all Tweety on me, I have nothing against beings who wear pink pussy ears. In fact, I think they are a clever, creative and even smart-assed (not to mix metaphors) putdown of our crotch-grabbing 45th president of the United States of America.

​  \
​   IT JUST HAPPENS that an important member of our household here in Newport, R.I. is a creature (and as you know, I chose my words carefully) named “Cat.” Cat is, in fact, a cat. Cat does not like me for just one reason: I’m a dog. She sometimes ambushes me when I’m simply walking past her, and she often camps out on the front hall stairs so I can’t get to the second floor, where I have my own futon.  

   Personally, I wish Cat would cut it out. I was here first, and I try to engage him in conversation when the humans are away, usually about what we’re forced to listen to on NPR, which the humans leave blaring on the radio whenever they leave the house. But he’s practically the only being on Planet Earth who doesn’t think I’m cute and “sweet” and have gorgeous eye lashes, and it’s hard to get him talking about anything. 
   So, I know something about prejudice, and now you can understand why I didn’t show up at the rally in cute little pussy ears. I did put on one of my best purple bandannas that really go quite nicely with my luxurious, almost snow-white fur coat. It’s not just vanity; when a dog puts on a bandanna, it’s a signal to humans that she is “one of the good ones” and not to get all scared and shivery.

  And this no-pussy-ears thing should not be misinterpreted to mean I wasn’t eager to be at this rally, because,  frankly, if I weren’t a dog or if I had my own income or at least a  trust fund, I would have hopped a plane to the District for the major rally.

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    ALSO, I AM A GIRL, despite an operation early in life that I don’t like to discuss, but which happens to a lot of us, and I really, really wanted to join the sisterhood at the State House, which happens to be one of the most gorgeous Capitols in the United States.
​  And boy, was I surprised by how many sisters and brothers were there, too.

   How many, you ask? How the heck should I know? I’m a dog, not a mathematician.
   Really, it was a joyful day. I got a lot of pats on the head from pussy-hat-wearing women and men, and lots of compliments about being cute. And I got to hear the governor of the state of Rhode Island, who is one of us – a real lady. Did you know that? And so is the secretary of state. Did you know that?
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  SOMEBODY pointed out that it was sunny and warm here in Rhode Island, compared to yesterday, when Mr. Doom and Gloom was taking the oath down in DC and giving his mean and menacing inaugural speech, and it rained.
   Here's one theory:
  


​​    When Trump became president, God cried; when the ladies, and the gentlemen who love them, gathered the following day, God smiled and warmly.
   FRANKLY, I’m not one of those religious dogs that believes that God is dog spelled backwards.. I basically only celebrate Christmas, and that’s because the humans give me and Cat gifts to open when everyone else rips into theirs.
     But what I’m saying that IF there is a God, then it makes sense She would arrange for some sunshine. ​​

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    A "sweet dog" and a smart opossum consider a nation at risk.

    The writers

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    PHOEBE, a "sweet dog" who came to Rhode Island in 2010 as a stray puppy from Missouri, was a political agnostic until Trump's catastrophic election. She tracked his presidency in a blog, which she decided to resurrect it this year  when it became obvious that Republicans are committed to Trump's destructive policies
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    MR. O, an opossum, showed up in Phoebe's backyard somewhat mysteriously. He turned out to have genuine insight into political matters, and he agreed to assume co-author duties of the blog after Phoebe's previous writing partner, Cat, a cat, died.
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    CAT

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