Joey Unleashed

First, I want to say how proud I am to have a Portie as First Dog. Although we've been around for nearly 1,000 years, we've only recently been recognized by the American Kennel Club. So Bo moving into the White House is quite an accomplishment for all of us Porties.

Secondly, I want to set the record straight. While Bo and the Kennedy Porties are bluebloods, most of us are red-blooded working dogs. Throughout the centuries, we've had to earn our keep -- as herders, hunters, fishing dogs, retrievers, messengers, babysitters and protectors of the realm. No handouts for us. We work hard for our room and board.

My advice to Bo?

• Don't let the stardom go to your head. Be yourself.
• Avoid flyby photo flops.
• Don't chew on your mom's $540 Lanvin sneakers. They may be "just shoes," but they could pay to keep a family of four well fed for a month.
• Get in tight with those two cute people pups. That way when your family moves out of the White House, you won't end up like Socks Clinton. It had to find another home and another family when it was no longer needed as a presidential accessory.
• Don't dig too deeply in the White House lawn. You never know what bones are buried there.
• Remember that being First Dog doesn't mean you're Top Dog. Or that you're right.
• But most importantly, be there for your family. There are going to be times when they will really need you.

Dialogue With a Dog

When Joey, our Portuguese water dog, heard that one of Sen. Kennedy's Porties was going to write a book a few years ago, he took over the office chair and begged me to let him write the Republican response.

"You? What do you know about Republicans? Or Democrats?"

"We may look like fou fou dogs, but Porties are the smartest thing on four legs," he barked. "And I'm a red-blooded pitbull when it comes to politics."

When Joey heard a Portie was moving into the White House, he barked a little louder, strutted a little more and wagged his tail a little harder. But then this week he heard Bo was going to write a book. There's been no living with him since.

"If that inexperienced pup who's still wet behind the ears thinks he's got something to say after just one month in the White House, then it's time for the howl of experience to be heard," Joey told me.

"What would you write about?"

"Hey, I've been around the block a few times. I've peed on my share of bushes, and I've marked a lot of real estate," he bragged. "I've lived through two presidential elections and Asa Hutchinson's gubernatorial campaign. Believe me, I've got things to say." Joey looked up at me with his soulful round eyes. He really knows how to use that look.

"OK, I'll give you a trial run," I told him. "I'll let you write the blog once in awhile."

Joey stood on his hind legs, put his front paws on my shoulders and licked me joyfully. "You won't regret it," he told me. (He always has to have the last word.)

So tomorrow, it's Joey -- unleashed.