Romney Does Not Believe in Dog
Emotion-free Mitt Romney would, and did:
Before beginning the drive, Mitt Romney put Seamus, the family's hulking Irish setter, in a dog carrier and attached it to the station wagon's roof rack. He'd built a windshield for the carrier, to make the ride more comfortable for the dog.[ed. Aw, that's nice of him]
Then Romney put his boys on notice: He would be making predetermined stops for gas, and that was it.[ed. Did you tell Seamus? Did you?]
The ride was largely what you'd expect with five brothers, ages 13 and under, packed into a wagon they called the ''white whale.''[ed. "Mom, he's looking at me." "I gotta pee." "Stop looking at me, queer-bait!" "Are we there yet?" "Dad, what's queer-bit?"]
As the oldest son, Tagg Romney commandeered the way-back of the wagon, keeping his eyes fixed out the rear window, where he glimpsed the first sign of trouble. ''Dad!'' he yelled. ''Gross!'' A brown liquid was dripping down the back window, payback from an Irish setter who'd been riding on the roof in the wind for hours.[ed. Yep, Seamus the Setter sadly soiled himself in payback.]
As the rest of the boys joined in the howls of disgust, Romney coolly pulled off the highway and into a service station. There, he borrowed a hose, washed down Seamus and the car, then hopped back onto the highway. It was a tiny preview of a trait he would grow famous for in business: emotion-free crisis management.
In all fairness, the straight-forward and vacuous Mitt probably asked the dog where he'd like to sit.
And Seamus responded,"Roof, roof!"