By: Russ Friend

I don’t understand all the hate being directed towards Mitt Romney. Yes, he drove from Boston to Canada with his dog strapped to the roof of his SUV. What his critics are failing to realize is that Mitt had found a brilliant solution to a terrible situation.

Mitt had just packed the last piece of luggage into his SUV when the sound of his dog yelping caused him to look up. Seamus, his beloved Irish Setter with the slow Scottish mind, was running toward the house yipping and yapping.

The sound reminded Mitt of one of those furry little soccer balls popular among the suburbanites who wanted a trained cat but settled for the closest thing they could find. As Mitt headed toward his dog, the breeze brought with it a hint of the scent that had set off his friend Rick Santorum’s skunk. Mitt realized the poor dog must have wandered into Santorum’s yard (again) and Rick had sic’d his pet Skunk, Gipper, on the poor pooch.

Rick had been threatening to do this ever since Seamus had eaten one of his children. Unfortunately, neither Rick nor his wife was certain as to which child had been devoured. Mitt had brushed off the angry words of his working staff. He believed that the Santorums, being good Catholics, would simply replace their missing offspring within a year — no harm, no foul. Even the Santorums weren’t sure how many children they had, as evidenced by their creative tax returns.

There wasn’t enough time for a trip to the veterinarian, nor did Mitt want to delay his family’s vacation. Everyone was looking forward to laughing at the poor people of Canada. Mitt had planned on using the trip to teach his children firsthand about the evils of Socialism. Seamus was becoming an unacceptable delay.

The children might catch on if he replaced the dog again and Seamus Mark III arrived at the hotel after being shipped same-day from another state. That worked last summer when the kids were at band camp, but it wouldn’t work here.

Mitt had really liked Seamus Mark I and regretted the events that led up to the unfortunate accident: a luxurious yacht, a bottle of wine and one angry swordfish. At the end of the day, the score was fish-1, dog-0.

Looking up at the sky darkening with rain clouds, Mitt had an idea.

After loading his family into the SUV, Mitt placed Seamus in his cage and then strapped the cage to the roof. As the last strap was tightened, the first drops of rain, heavy and wet, began to fall.

Mitt went into the garage and looked through the dog supplies until he found what he was looking for, a bottle of Skunk-Be-Gone®. He returned to find the rain, which was coming down in sheets by this time, had completely soaked Seamus.

Squirting the thick liquid all over his beloved friend, he worked it up to a frothy lather (something that would make Santorum smile). Mitt thought the heavy rains and his lead foot would power-wash his pooch, removing all traces of the Santorum Scent. Once they were out of the storm, he hoped the 100kph winds would dry Seamus’s coat and bring it to a brilliant luster.

It worked like a charm. His children were able to laugh at scores of poor people and Seamus smelled as fresh as a warm spring shower.