Free Elvis and the Underdogs by Jenny Lee

president’s personal dog. He picked me out himself twenty-two months ago when I was an eleven-month-old puppy, and I’ve been in training ever since. I am honed and ready to take my place in history beside him. You see, I’m what you would call an extraordinary dog who is destined to live an extraordinary life.”
    Well, one thing I knew for sure was that he wasn’t lying when he said that. He certainly was extraordinary, as in extraordinarily full of himself. I mean, who goes around saying that he’s extraordinary? I mean, even if I was extraordinary in some way, I don’t think I’d go around announcing it. I wondered if all dogs were this confident. I also found it interesting that he thought of himself as special too. But when he said he was special, he acted like it was a good thing. You know, I just decided that in my next life, I want to come back as a dog. Of course, knowing my luck, I’d come back as a pound puppy.
    Normally, I wouldn’t believe such a wackadoo story, but there was something in his tone that made me almost believe him. He sounded so serious. Besides, it was a pretty crazy story once you thought about it.
    â€œOkay, so you’re the president’s dog. Congratulations to you.”
    â€œThank you. I am very pleased myself. Now, is Benji short for something?”
    â€œYes, it’s short for Benjamin, but no one calls me Benjamin except the principal of my school and my grandmother. I prefer Benji. Like the dog. Hey, that’s pretty funny. I have a dog’s name and you have a person’s name. It’s kind of ironic, isn’t it?”
    â€œActually, it’s not ironic, it’s merely an interesting turn of events. A mere coincidence, as they say. One of my biggest pet peeves is when humans use the word ‘ironic’ incorrectly. The English language is something to be treasured and appreciated, Benjamin.”
    â€œWhatever you say, Elvis.”
    â€œTouché.”
    â€œWhat does that mean?”
    â€œIt’s a French word that means . . . oh, never you mind. It’s not important. You see, I’m trying to work on my French, because next week at the White House they are entertaining the French prime minister and his family. They’re going to have a big party, and I will be in attendance. So I’ve naturally been brushing up on my French. It’s a beautiful language, if I do say so myself. And here’s an interesting tidbit. The French love their dogs. They are even allowed to bring them into restaurants. Have you ever been to France?”
    I shook my head. “I like French fries, though.”
    â€œYes, they are quite delicious. But here’s another interesting fact. French fries originated in Belgium, not France. But Belgian fries doesn’t sound quite the same. Now, perhaps it’s time to go straighten out this whole unfortunate turn of events.”
    â€œOkay, I guess I’ll go tell my mom about the mix-up?”
    â€œAre you asking me or telling me? Because what you said was a statement, but then you added a question mark to it at the end.”
    This dog was one big hairy piece of work. Good luck, Mr. President.
    â€œI guess I’m telling you.”
    â€œJust by adding the words ‘I guess’ in front of your statement, you are still making it into a question. You should be more assertive in your manner.”
    If he was going to get annoyed with everything I said, I wasn’t going to say anything. We looked at each other silently for a moment. He then stood up and gently nudged me with his giant moist black nose.
    â€œAhem, are you expecting me to go with you? I’m actually a little tired from my travels, so I think I’ll wait here and rest a bit. I’m sure if you tell your mother to phone the White House, they’ll handle the whole matter straightaway.”
    â€œFine.” I started toward the kitchen, but then I stopped and