Bowmore for President

Today is the Birthday of the land we live in and to celebrate, humans gather together to drink falling over juice and put dead cow on the outside fire box.  Our humans went with us to the kennel of Talisker’s friend, Wally. His humans are really good at cooking dead cow on fire boxes.

Now, as a natural born American (and I have the pedigree certificate to prove it), I have recently learnt that I am eligible to be President of this land.  I am told that I have to be 35 years of age but I can’t find a rule that stipulates as to whether this measure is in dog or human years. I am now 87 in dog years so I consider myself well within the qualifying criteria.  Humans just fight over this job, so I think it’s time the Dog party took over and I have decided that with my many years of experience of caring for humans and diverting possible threats from our kennel, I am the ideal candidate to lead the charge.

There are a couple of issues which I feel very strongly about which I intend to use as my main platform.  Firstly, we need to deal with what in my opinion is an excessive taxation on dog biscuits and secondly, every town should be required to have a place where we can exercise our humans off leash.

Bowmore