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Tuesday, November 05, 2024
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The power of POTUS (Pets of the United States)

In honor of President’s Day, let’s highlight the weird and wonderful world of White House pets

Socks the Cat, Bill Clinton's presidential cat, explores in the White House. | Barbara Kinney via Wikimedia Commons
Socks the Cat, Bill Clinton's presidential cat, explores in the White House. | Barbara Kinney via Wikimedia Commons

It’s once again an election year.

This November, millions of Americans will cast their ballot to pick the next president of these here United States. As this election cycle ramps up, Americans will surely have a lot on their minds. And that’s beautiful — performing your civic duty is a wonderful thing. But I want to take this brief calm before the storm to talk about White House occupants who often enjoy bipartisan support even though we, The People, don’t get to elect them: the pets!

Yes, the White House has rarely known petlessness. In the history of this nation, all but four presidents have been pet owners — though you could argue that number down to three, as Andrew Johnson allegedly took care of the mice that lived in his bedroom, “Cinderella”-style.

Many critters have lived on the grounds of 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. NW, so this President’s Day, let’s talk about America’s favorite POTUS (pets of the United States).

Bull Moose’s Animal House

Theodore Roosevelt’s White House was packed to the brim with pets. Between himself and his six children, the Roosevelt White House housed over 40 pets including but not limited to 11 horses, six dogs, five guinea pigs, two cats, a badger, a bear, a lizard, a rabbit and a macaw

Between the animals and the children, there was plenty of mischief in the Roosevelt White House. Roosevelt’s sons, especially Archie Roosevelt, enjoyed riding on a pony named Algonquin in particular. Archie loved the pony so much that when he fell ill, the other children devised a scheme to sneak the horse into the White House. They even got it in the elevator.

The Roosevelts also had a knack for naming their critters. They had a good amount of pets with human names like Jack, Pete or Maude — which is my preferred naming method. 

However, with that many pets, you’re bound to get a few odd names in there. The Roosevelts took the people-names thing to the next level, giving the pets names of actual people. Some of their guinea pigs, for example, were named after real army officials President Roosevelt knew from the Spanish-American War, including Admiral George Dewey and Robley “Fighting Bob” Evans. 

But the best eponymous pet name would come from Roosevelt’s eldest daughter, Alice. She named a pet snake Emily Spinach, after both the vegetable and her aunt Emily. 

When asked why, Alice Roosevelt said it was because the snake “was as green as spinach and as thin as my Aunt Emily.”

Although Theodore Roosevelt did not adopt the Bull Moose epithet until after his presidency, it feels fitting that the man who dwarfed the pet collections of any of his predecessors would have an animal-themed nickname to boot. 

Over the Cool-Hedge

When I was a kid, I thought I wanted a pet raccoon. 

But I learned that I, in fact, did not want a pet raccoon after one broke into my house and hissed at me. It was a formative experience that reminded me that raccoons belong outside and not in my house. 

Clearly no one in the Coolidge administration learned that valuable lesson. They instead kept a raccoon named Rebecca as a pet. She lived in a little house that was built just for her on White House property. She had everything, and she didn’t even break into their house. 

Calvin Coolidge received Rebecca in 1926 from a farmer to eat for Thanksgiving (yes, that’s a thing). The president and his wife, Grace, decided they were far too fond of the raccoon and decided to keep her. 

At one point, the Coolidges tried to get Rebecca a mate. His name was Reuben, and he did not stick around long. Rebecca spent the rest of the Coolidge administration in single bliss, eating eggs and persimmons, while being arguably the most powerful raccoon in the United States. 

Rebecca the Raccoon is so famous that she has her own Wikipedia page. A true girl boss of the era. 

Raccoons, take notes. And please don’t break into my house again. 

Presidential Pet Lightning Round

I’m taking this opportunity to highlight a few presidential pets and why I think they’re great in one sentence:

  • Willow (Biden) — She’s the current reigning Cat of the United States (COTUS) and the first White House cat in over a decade.
  • Socks (Clinton) — They have a bunch of pictures of him just existing in the White House, including a portrait of him, which is possibly the most elegant cat thing to have.
  • Billy Opossum (Hoover) — He’s a possum who just moved into Rebecca’s old house and decided he was a White House pet, and Herbert Hoover once loaned him out as a mascot to a local high school. 
  • Mason and Dixon (Buffalo’s own Fillmore) — I can’t believe he named his horses that. 

All in all, a president’s pets won’t dramatically change their owner’s time in office. We shouldn’t fault the pets for being a part of the complex legacy that human presidents leave behind. Instead, we should take a moment to reflect on these little moments of joy — not for the sake of the presidents or their administrations, but for ourselves. 

The world is heavy, especially now as there are myriad issues demanding our attention. But while we do the best we can to better the world, we can and should treat ourselves and learn a little more about the creatures that make the world better without trying. 

Whether they’re your own pets or a president’s, pets make this world a little bit better.

Darcy Winter is the fact checker and can be reached at darcy.winter@ubspectrum.com 

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