Now, turkey’s are not often considered smart, by human standards. They aren’t often consider smart by animal standards, either. When Tad Lincoln, son of President Abraham Lincoln, intervenes and saves a turkey from becoming Christmas dinner, no one was expecting him to be welcomed by the Room as a Presidential Pet.
And yet, all this time later, here Jack is.
The White House turkey, with his own roosting box, and all the corn he can eat…and sometimes…just sometimes…a job, like all the others.
Today, of course, is one of those sometimes, and Jack finds himself waddling through the doggy door with his tail feathers up and out, in a vain attempt at making a good impression.
Now, he might be stupid, but he isn’t dumb. He knows that the other Presidential Pets don’t think much of him, and he’s always trying to change that.
As it stands, it’s not Cornwallis or Tabby that meets him in the Room, but a bull terrier named Bruce, who’s owned by President Woodrow Wilson.
“You!” Bruce barks, standing up.
For a moment, Jack thinks he’s going to be fussed at, or that Bruce is going to complain he’s got a turkey for a partner on whatever this job might end up being.
But Bruce just wags his tail so hard that his entire body trembles. Bull terriers are funny like that. They’re different from other terriers, and known for having a football shaped head, almond shaped eyes, and being able to withstand and ignore just about any kind of pain!
“You,” says Bruce, again, but his tail is wagging even harder, somehow. “I have been waiting for you! This is great, this is great! We can go now! I know where we’re supposed to go and everything!” Bruce starts prancing from paw to paw, like he’s so excited at the prospect of moving, he just can’t contain himself. “We’re gonna work so well together, I just know it! Oh, oh, we’re gonna be awesome buddies!”
“You’re excited to work with me?” Jack can’t keep the surprise out of his voice. When he cocks his head to the side, his waddle dangles.
“Yeah!” Bruce all but bellows the word. Then, without waiting any longer, he turns and barrels down the line of unlit doors, until coming across one ringed in bright pink light. “Let’s go!”
And without waiting even a moment, not for Jack to answer, let alone for Jack to catch up with him, the bull terrier barrels through the doggy door and into another time.
Jack, confused but a little excited over the warm welcome, is quick to follow.
Katelynn E Koontz – Author
