Talking It Over

It was love at first sight.

Buddy, as most of America knows, is our new 3 1/2-month-old chocolate Labrador. Already, Bill and Buddy are inseparable.

Having lived with us less than a week, Buddy seems to have adjusted quite nicely to life in the White House. He gets up early with Bill for a morning run and stays up with him late into the night. During the day, he seems happiest lying at Bill's feet in the Oval Office.

We've been thinking about getting a dog for a year or so. But it wasn't until Chelsea left for college that we decided to take the plunge. We'd heard that Labradors were particularly playful and fun, and when Buddy came for a visit a few weeks ago, we knew that he was the one.

Our first challenge was picking the perfect name. We've had no shortage of suggestions from the American people. Some of my favorites were Barkansas, Arkanpaws and Clin Tin Tin. One little girl came up to me and offered "Top Secret." We had to laugh when we imagined the President running around the South Lawn calling "Top Secret, Top Secret."

Finally, we narrowed a list of hundreds of names down to seven. But we wanted Chelsea to have a say, so we waited for her to come home from college and meet the puppy before making a final decision. After hours of deliberation, we settled on Buddy.

Buddy was the nickname of my husband's favorite Uncle Oren Grisham, who died last spring. He raised and trained dogs for over 50 years. One of Bill's favorite childhood memories is going to Uncle Buddy's house to play with his dogs. It just felt right to name our new pet after him.

Buddy has a hard act to follow. Our first dog was a brave and noble cocker spaniel named Zeke that I gave to my husband in 1979.

Zeke had a mind of his own and a will to wander. No fence, no gate, no leash could keep him penned in. He'd bite or dig his way through or around any barrier.

Sadly, his wandering caught up with him one day in 1990 when he dashed into the street and was hit by a car. We buried him on the grounds of the Governor's Mansion in Little Rock.

We were reluctant to get another dog because we didn't think anyone could replace Zeke. One day, though, I took Chelsea to her piano lesson. There in the teacher's front yard were two little black and white kittens. When Chelsea reached out to them, the black one with white paws jumped right into her arms. We found out he was a stray and decided to give him a home.

That's how Socks came to live with us. Socks is an outdoor cat, but because of our fears that he would slip through the fence into the traffic and crowds outside the White House, he is kept on a long leash on the grounds near the Oval Office. Despite that, he still manages to carry on regally, chasing birds and squirrels out of his territory.

Now, he — and we — have been joined by Buddy. So far, Buddy is thrilled with Socks, but the feeling is not yet mutual. My husband, however, is determined to negotiate a rapprochement, a reconciliation, perhaps even a historic shaking of the paws.

Although we love Buddy and have from the moment we first saw him, we didn't make this decision or take on this responsibility lightly. Dogs, and especially puppies, need more than love. They need time, care and a suitable environment to grow and thrive. That's why everyone needs to think very carefully before adopting what really is a new member of the family.

We were luckier than most people to get a dog who was well on his way to being trained. He's got the run of the South Lawn and plenty of people to play with. He already knows some basic commands.

Above all, he's got the most adoring pal you could ever imagine. I wish everyone could see my husband's eyes light up when his Buddy bounds down the hall to greet him.

COPYRIGHT 1997 CREATORS SYNDICATE, INC.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED