Two bluebirds sipped water from a bird bath. On grass, orange-breast robins tugged at stretching, gooey earthworms.
The president nodded. “Golpher, I’ve been thinking. You’re exactly right. If you carry a club, people talk. They relate. A club eases people into conversation.”
“Yes, sir.” I inhaled as new morning sun’s rays covered my furry body.
The president paused and gazed directly to my brown eyes. “Before we have morning tea, Golpher, and as we’re forty-five minutes from our tee-time, let me get right to the point.”
“Okay. Woof. Go ahead, sir.”
“Golpher, we need better relations with China. I want you to be our ambassador. You’ll carry a club, meet a variety of interesting people. You’ll be a relations builder.”
My eyebrows rose. Then my lips tightened, eyes narrowed, and I clasped paws to my back.
“But, I’m not sure what to talk about sir.”
“Just carry your club,” said the president. “Your club will introduce you. Your club will do the talking. As we said, people will relate. They’ll give you all the lobster, steak, prime rib, and chicken you want.”
My lips pooched. I nodded. “That’s fine, sir. But a few Milk Bones now and then wouldn’t hurt, either.”
“Done,” said the president. “I’ll secure an all-expenses paid ambassador’s contract.” He glanced to Jinx and then to his wife. “Take Jinx if you like, Golpher. Carry on; and you can begin, immediately.”
“Woof.” I liked the deal. “Yes, sir.”
Ambassador to China, I’d bring back news. Carrying a club, in the relations business—meant to bark, to woof, to speak up, I’d be top dog.