Hey Bo! It's your pal, Bandit! I was reading your blog today.
Boo on your daddy the President for kicking you out of the Executive Office for barking. You were only doing your job!
Doesn't he know that maybe you were reminding him it was time to take a break? Or maybe one of the visitors smelled like a big meanie and you were warning him. Or maybe you were so happy you couldn't keep it in and had to bark it out. It doesn't matter. We're dogs. We bark.
And don't feel bad about not getting invited to the White House state dinner. We didn't get invited to Uncle Al and Roxanne's wedding either. The food people were way too worried about worms and germs and stuff like that. I don't know what they ate at the state dinner, but I sure hope your daddy the President brought you home some leftovers or saved you some plates to lick.
I saw pictures of what you were doing while your family was eating dinner. It looks like you were having a very, very boring time walking with the man in the suit. Where's the frisbee? Where's the ball? Where's the fun?
Bo, I think maybe you should come here and stay for a while. You need a vacation. At our house, you get to eat dinner with the family and lick the dinner plates. You get to play catch, and bark at the other dogs in the neighborhood, and run around like a maniac. And you get to sleep in the bed and it doesn't matter if your paws are dirty.
Let me know when you want to come and visit. We'll run in the park together and have some good times. And we can even ask old Abe Lincoln's ghost if he wants to come, too. He's probably not having any fun in the White House either.
Your pal,
BANDIT!!
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