Let’s have more cats in the White House

If it were up to me, every president would be required to have a cat in the White House.
The Bidens have dogs — Commander, a 4-month-old purebred German shepherd puppy, and Major, who was shipped back to the family home in Delaware after some unfortunate encounters with the White House staff.
But the first family finally adopted a cat at the end of January — Willow, a green-eyed tabby. Jill Biden fell in love with the feline after it jumped up on a stage during a speech she was giving. She named the cat after her hometown, Willow, Pa.
Dogs are fixtures at the White House. One famous pooch was Checkers, Nixon’s cocker spaniel, whose name he evoked to gain sympathy in a famous speech in 1952 to save his spot on the Republican ticket. Nixon had been accused of improprieties relating to a fund established by his backers to reimburse him for his political expenses. His speech worked, and he became Dwight Eisenhower’s vice president for two terms.
Checkers is buried in a pet cemetery in Wantagh.

Going back further, Franklin Roosevelt had his Fala, a Scottie; John F. Kennedy was given Pushinka, the daughter of Strelka, who had traveled into space aboard the Soviet spacecraft Sputnik, as a gift by then Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev. The Clintons had Buddy, a chocolate Labrador, and the Obamas had Bo, a Portuguese water dog.
It seems almost expected that the president will have a dog. Not so much a cat, at least not so publicly. Perhaps this is because all of our presidents so far have been men, and men are supposed to love dogs and not necessarily cats, silly as this may sound. And maybe because dogs are still considered a part the American dream, along with the white picket fence and the station wagon (now an SUV).
But to be sure, some of our greatest presidents had cats. One of my favorites, Abraham Lincoln, doted on cats. Lincoln left his dog, Fido, home in Springfield, Ill., when he was elected. He was given two cats by Secretary of State William Seward. He fed them from the expensive White House china. His wife, Mary Todd, disapproved, But Lincoln, who had no love for his predecessor James Buchanan, who did little if anything to stop the rise of the Confederacy, said, “If the gold fork was good enough for former President James Buchanan, I think it is good enough for Tabby.”
Lincoln was so enamored of cats, the story goes, that his attention was distracted by meowing at Gen. Ulysses S. Grant’s headquarters in City Point, Va., during the Civil War Battle of Petersburg in March 1865, weeks before the president was assassinated.
There were other first felines. Teddy Roosevelt had a six-toed cat, Slippers, who was often spotted in the kitchen. Herbert Hoover’s Persian, Kitty, roamed the floors of the White House.
The Coolidges owned Tiger, Blacky, Bounder, Timmie and even a bobcat named Smoky.
Clinton’s daughter, Chelsea, had Socks. Socks had a song, a book and a website that was all about him. He was important at the White House. The president once became enraged at the White House press corps when camera crews enticed Socks to come closer by offering him cat food.
But Socks never got along too well with Buddy the Lab, and eventually found a home with Clinton’s secretary, Betty Currie.
According to presidential historians, only two of the nation’s chief executives — James K. Polk and Donald J. Trump — had no pets in the White House. Polk, who was only 49 when he was inaugurated in 1845, was viewed as ultra-serious, and busied himself with annexing a bunch of states during his time in office. When asked about his petless presidency, Polk responded, “No president who performs his duty faithfully can have any leisure.”
We can all think of a few presidents who would disagree.
Can we imagine a future presidential candidate whose platform would include welcoming a cat in the White House? Such a pledge would be purrrfect!

Jim Bernstein is the editor of the Long Beach Herald. Comments about this column? JBernstein@liherald.com.