Free Dog Bites Man by James Duffy Page A

animal "temporarily adopted for the day."
    While chances of the Incident ever being exposed had lessened,Gullighy saw in this proposal a chance to employ his principle of Preemptive Prophylaxis, marking the mayor as a friend of animals, with photo ops of Eldon holding a cat or stroking a dog.
    He asked Betsy what she thought, and she was enthusiastic. "Neat! Little kittens and puppies on that beautiful green lawn."
    "We're talking October, kid. What if it rains?"
    "A rain date?"
    "Yeah, I suppose. Couldn't do it with a backup tent, I guess. Too smelly."
    Then Betsy, a dutiful Episcopalian, remembered that the Cathedral of St. John the Divine had an annual St. Francis fete, at which an amazing menagerie of pets were blessed by the rector. She told Gullighy of this.
    "That's all right, sweetie. I'll get the cardinal behind our shindig—he has first call on St. Francis, don't you agree?"
    "I'm not a theologian," she replied, blowing back a blonde lock.
    "I thought not. Leave it to me, honey."
    Jack leaned back in his chair (as best he could in Betsy's tiny office) and focused seriously on the proposal, looking, as he always did, for hidden land mines and leaving aside for the moment the rector of St. John the Divine. Mentally he debated the pros and cons. The letter before him had been signed by a prominent board member of the Zoological Society. He did not know all the outfits listed on the letterhead, but there certainly were respectable ones, like the New York branch of the ASPCA and the Humane Society.
    Would the cardinal go along with the idea? We'll have to find out. But why should he object? (Besides, if he approves, it would help heal the tiny scar left when Eldon had politely declined to intervene in a fight over landmarking a Bronx parish church that the cardinal wished to close—and sell.)
    The Jews? Americans United for the Separation of Church and State? The Muslims? (Others had not yet detected Muslims on their political radar; Gullighy had.) Hell, we're talking St. Francis, for Chrissake, Jack thought, not Torquemada. The white male angle? Maybe have to include St. Clare as well.
    The more he thought about it, the more CAW's proposal appealed. Caw? Caw? Isn't that what crows say? Oh, well. They had thought up the acronym, he hadn't.
    And it suddenly occurred to him that the festival might be an occasion for softening up new campaign contributors. Pet shop owners? Professional dog breeders? Cat food makers? This could be brilliant.
    "Betsy, let me take this one," he finally said, putting the CAW letter in his pocket. He could let the proposal go through channels, via Betsy, but she would be unable to explain the Preemptive Prophylaxis benefits to her boss. "I'll talk to Eldon about it."
    The good-natured Twinsett was not offended by Jack's usurpation, and the two turned to consider the other proposals on the agenda.
    .    .    .
    Before the next breakfast meeting, Jack checked with the Chancery Office. His pal, Msgr. George McGinty, gave his approval (after a quick check with the cardinal). The only condition was that His Eminence would expect to be invited. He also pacified the annoyed rector of St. John's, who did not at all like moving the date of his own animal love-in to the Sunday before St. Francis's feast, as Gullighy proposed. But an ironclad commitment on the latter's part to produce an appearance by the mayor at whatever future event the rector designated persuaded him.
    And Jack had another bright idea. Why shouldn't Eldon and Edna have a pet of their own? A lovable and irresistible bowser. The mutt could make its debut at the festival—more pictures, more publicity, more touchy-feely goodwill. No more "offing" a helpless dog.
    By the time of the next breakfast meeting, Jack had not yet thought up a name for the mayor's prospective house pet, but his enthusiasm for his exercise in P.P. had not diminished. Unfortunately, he found the First Couple in an extremely grumpy mood