Steve Bannon -- on his way out but couldn't be happier.
Once in a while a hungry dog is better left starving.
Steve Bannon has finally been banished from the cozy, warmth of the White House kitchen, where he was just a whimper away from all the treats he wanted. He was satisfied, and we didn't hear much from him. He heeled quite nicely and didn't need to beg. He and his owner always saw eye to eye.
But as with many top dogs, the kitchen started to feel a bit confining. He started swatting his bowel across the room and looking around to see if anyone noticed.
Yes, his tummy was full -- but he still wasn't allowed to bark. Which struck him as odd, because that's why his new owner bought him in the first place. He was a junkyard dog. A real man's dog -- all bite soaked in plenty of bark.
He was his own man. He didn't dress up for meetings, or from the looks of it, anything. Instead, he looked like he was off to a Playboy mansion cookout to grab a few burgers, blondes and a beer.
But within a short time he was donning a stuffy, designer suit. Definitely -- not his style.
You can't take a pit bull and dress him in one of those frilly doggy outfits that says, "I love Mommy" on the back. It's a sure way to breed discontent.
His owner, observant, even if a little selfish and pigheaded, noticed his dog becoming antsy and does what so many others do without thinking.
He gets him a companion.
A little, well coiffured, yappy mutt, rightly named, The Mooch.
The Mooch gets tons of attention, as do most loud, rambunctious pups. You know the kind -- they sit on your lap, nip at you constantly and it just makes you laugh.
Can you hear Bannon growling form the kitchen yet?
But it wasn't long before The Mooch felt he could poop anywhere on the White House grounds, even the Oval Office. That was a big no-no and back to the pound he went.
This gave Bannon the extra courage he needed to slowly push open the kitchen door and silently roam the halls.
Being kept in the background doesn't always please an ignored pet. Squeaky toys just don't provide the same satisfaction as chasing real rats and raising a ruckus.
A loud bark here and there might just get him the attention he's been craving for so long. American Prospect seems like a nice place to start. Or not.
Muzzles only work for so long.
This is where many owners either try obedience training or pawning off their pet to the nearest unsuspecting relative. Neither is an option.
We can't just turn him out into the wild to fend for himself. Or can we?
Of course, he'll end up hungry, but he'll be where he can thrive. Rounding up vermin and drinking muddy water from over turned hubcaps. He'll be happy playing in the dirt. And in the end -- so will his owner.
Former Sun Newspaper Group correspondet, occasional Op-Ed and essays in The Orlando Sentinel. Recognized short fiction winner and former library president. Professional photographer and co-owner of an internationally heard music production company.