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1st Feline Will Get Chance to Show It’s Cool Being a Cat in White House

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THE WASHINGTON POST

Cat in the White House, rats beware.

Socks, the First Cat-elect, soon will be slinking through the Blue Room, pawing over documents on the President’s desk, pouncing out to greet the commander-in-chief when he steps off Air Force One. Fabulous, purr cat people. But traditionalists wonder: How presidential is a man with a pussycat on his lap?

“A dog is an obvious for the President,” says Mike Deaver, Reagan’s chief image maker. “They’re the most American pet there is.”

Cats are for wusses, dog men say. They are preening, finicky, spooky-eyed stalkers that historically have been worshiped as gods, or hanged as witches.

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Dogs invoke manly images of thick-shouldered hunters thundering through the woods. They are a photo-op prop, a way to divert reporters, someone you can count on to lick your hand when everyone else has bitten.

The Clintons had a dog but a car ran him over a few years ago, says a spokesman. Bill wanted a new dog. Hillary and Chelsea vetoed the proposal, and so they got Socks--black body, white feet--now 2 1/2 years old. Chelsea, 12, carries him around a lot. He doesn’t do any tricks, except make Bill and Hillary sneeze.

And he won’t be writing any books, says Frank Greer, Clinton’s media consultant. The Bushes’ pet springer spaniel earned nearly $890,000 in royalties from “Millie’s Book.”

“Socks has been through a lot this past year” with so many strangers tracking through his house, Greer says. “He gauges everyone when they walk in, rubs their leg if he likes them. He’s pretty laid-back, though, definitely not neurotic.”

Even so, Clinton should get a dog, a mutt, to help his populist image, suggests Nial Kelly, author of “Presidential Pets.” Kelly says only two Presidents have had cats since 1932, Carter and Ford, “and that’s not an encouraging sign.”

Cat fanatics hiss at the suggestion.

“A cat is more thoughtful, a lot hipper, a lot cooler,” says Peter Gethers, author of “The Cat Who Went to Paris,” one of a litter of cute cat books. “And that’s Clinton, it fits his image--wearing dark glasses, playing the sax with a cool cat nearby.”

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Socks shows that the Clintons are typical of today’s young families, says Bob Fleming, national president of the Cat Fanciers Federation. Cats have edged out dogs as America’s top pet, according to a survey by the American Veterinary Medical Assn. In 1991, the national feline population was 57 million, compared to 52.5 million canines.

White House pets weren’t always a two-party ticket. Taft kept a Holstein cow. Andrew Johnson cared for a family of mice. Wilson kept sheep on the south lawn. Theodore Roosevelt adopted ferrets and a kangaroo.

Mostly, though, there have been presidential pooches, who have brought both political gain and shame on their masters. Voters never forgave Lyndon Johnson for picking up his beagles by the ears, provoking mind-cracking yowls all around.

But Franklin Roosevelt’s Scottie, Fala, buried near the foot of his grave, helped clinch his 1944 reelection. The incumbent said he could deal with smear campaigns aimed at him or his family but would not tolerate attacks on his dog. Pet lovers lapped it up.

Sometimes the dog thing has come in handy. Ford’s golden retriever, Liberty, would jump up on cue and wag his tail at guests who had overstayed their welcome. Ford would pause and chuckle “heh-heh-heh,” or something, and then indicate that it was time for his next appointment.

On other occasions, dogged behavior went too far. When Barbara Bush gave Sam Donaldson a White House tour, Millie licked herself--there--on camera. Charlie, the Kennedys’ Welsh terrier, thought Jackie Kennedy’s ankle was a fire hydrant. Nixon’s Irish setter, King Timahoe, chomped up a corner of the Oval Office rug. And Jimmy Carter’s dog, Grits, absconded from Washington amid rumors he was never “White House-broken.”

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Now Socks will join other feline notables such as Amy Carter’s Siamese, Misty Malarky Ying Yang. Or Coolidge’s Tiger, a striped alley cat, who once ran away. Coolidge got on the radio and asked for help to find Tiger.

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