The Yapping Poodles of the Far Right


I  have a 6 year old 8 pound toy poodle named Ronald Rumsfeld Reagan Reidhead.  He wears a red collar.  There are times when he is known as the Demon Dog from Hell.  He’s having one of those weeks this week.  I’ve left my dining room floor trashed, because I need to go get a picture of it.  He’s been dragging out his toys.  He has more toys than 99% of the kids in the world.  He’s also been raiding the trash baskets.  It is spring. The Pink Flamingo is allergic to spring.  Ergo, I have Puffs, everywhere.  Rums grabs them, shredding them, leaving a mess on the floor.  He’s also made a couple of TP runs, unrolling, dragging, and shredding.  It’s a rough job, but, he’s the little guy for it.

The Pink Flamingo is a cat person.  That’s why I have a poodle.  Poodles really aren’t dogs.  They’re obviously not cats, even though they attempt to imitate them.  It’s the same thing with most little dogs.  (If you don’t have cats and little dogs, you don’t understand the dynamics, so just trust me).

Toy poodles yap.  They attempt to put on a big show, but are not much more than about 7 pounds of fluff. If they are brought into a home with alpha cats when just puppies, they never really comprehend the fact that they are dogs, except for the yapping.  There are times when I swear the Little Guy is going to start purring.

There is a difference between big dogs and little ones.  Big ones like to drink toilet water.  Little ones like to go litter box diving and eat cat s**t.  Granted, we have tried to explain that cat s**t is high on carbs, but he doesn’t care.

Then there is the cat food problem.  I must put the nightly “treat” of a single can of Fancy Feast salmon pate on the kitchen counter.  If not, he gobbles it like is starving.

Rums and Sadie

He and Mommy Cat have a thing going on.  I shall not endeavor to explain their inter-species extracurricular habits, other than to explain that Mommy Cat has chosen him to father her kittens.  Evidently he doesn’t realize he has been “fixed” and Mommy Cat doesn’t realize he is allegedly a dog.

I mention this because Mommy Cat, if the Fancy Feast is on a lightweight disposable plate will push it off the counter for Rums to scavenge.  I swear she does this.  I am required to put the Fancy Feast in something heavier and block its movement with a heavy box of tin-foil.

The other day when she pushed the Fancy Feast off onto the floor, I went to grab it and he tried to lung at my bedroom slippers!

Rums yaps at everything.
He yaps at the cats.
He yaps at the noise outside.
He yaps when I print something (it is extremely funny).
He yaps at the thunder (bring it on).
He yaps when the skunks sneak into the carport to steal the outside cat food.
He yaps to tell me there are raccoons in the carport. (We don’t like raccoons – they kill cats).
He yaps when anyone comes into the house.
He yaps at the UPS driver, even though she’s been delivering here since before he was born.
He yaps when someone parks a car near us at night.
He yaps when someone knocks on the door.
He yaps when Doc jumps on the table.
He yaps just to yap.

There is a difference between a yapping poodle and a barking rottweiler. A yapping poodle is simply a yapping poodle.  They can do little real damage to an adult unless they attack and somehow manage to find a jugular vein.  That’s about it.  The cats weight nearly three times what he does, but Rumsfeld attempts to fight them at times.

When a big dog with a reputation as a “killer” barks at you, you’d better stand back and get away from them.  They are deadly.  They are killers.  Anyone who has ever owned a male toy poodle knows they have this inner urge to make a kamikaze run on these big guys.  They just know they can bring them down, when all they end up doing is getting themselves killed in the process.

Then again, every once in awhile you run into a big dog who is an abject coward, who allows a little twit like Rums to terrify them.  Usually they are either too well trained and have far too many manners to retaliate.  Sometimes they are simply cowed by a little alpha toy like Rums.  I have seen him intimidate big dogs, who simply walk away, just to get away from his obnoxious behavior.


That’s the difference between tea party “conservative” libertarians and real statesmen.  Real statesmen like John McCain, Lindsey Graham,  John Boehner, or George W. Bush are like the big dogs.  People like Ron Paul, Rand Paul, Michele Bachmann and Jim DeMint are yapping toy poodles. They yap at anything and try attacking anything, making pests of themselves.

It is like the scene from Rumsfeld’s favorite movie, Beverly Hills Chihuahua. (FYI, he thinks Chloe is hot!).  When Chloe is in danger from the bad mountain lions the big bad mountain lions are cowed and flee when faced with dozens of yapping chihuahuas. The yapping little guys can’t do much damage, but they make so much noise, they intimidate the mountain lions.

This is what is happening to the GOP.  The yapping toy poodles like Ron Paul, Rand Paul, Michele Bachmann, Jim DeMint, and their not so numerous associates, have cowed a few of the big dogs like John Boehner.

They may cow the big dogs for awhile, but eventually the big dogs will figure out that they are dealing with yapping poodles.  One or two big barks and the little yapping twits should run for cover.  The real problem is how long it will take for the big dogs to realize those little yapping poodles do not have as many followers as one might think they do.

Rums and Sadie

In liberal parlance, the little yapping twit toy poodles are a bunch of bullies.  (I know Rums is a bully, who runs for cover when Doc Holiday flexes her claws). Someone needs to smack them on the rear with a rolled up newspaper and rub their noses in the mess they have made. We all know they are incapable of cleaning up their messes.  They leave that for those who are the responsible ones.

The Pink Flamingo is waiting for the day, using doggie terms here, when one of the big dogs will get enough of the little yapping toy twits and simply say p*ss on you and lift their leg and let ’em have it.

No, it is not an elegant comparison, but it is appropriate.

Then there are the cute little girl poodles.  My precious Clancy was one of those.  She was adorable, prissy, loved to get “dressed up” and loved attention. My parents little Sadie is the same way.  She’s a prissy princess, just like the Glam Gals of the Tea Party GOP (Bachmann, O’Donnell, Haley, Angle, etc).  They are cute and prissy.  The guys love ’em. They like to be adored, brushed and pampered on their poodle spa day. Other than that, they’re not much good for anything.

The thing about Clancy was she had absolutely no loyalty. She would dump me any day of the week if a better deal came along.  Rums is a spoiled brat (embarrassing) Mama’s Boy.  He whines, cries, and won’t let me out of his sight. He yaps a good game but when confronted he runs for me. Sadie, having been rescued from an emotionally abusive situation, knows a good thing when she sees one.  She can adapt and do what ever anyone thinks she should do, until she’s comfortable with her surroundings, then she’s once again Princess Sadie.

Princess Sadie

Don’t get me wrong, poodles are incredibly smart creatures.  The problem is they have absolutely no common sense. They are cunning and manipulative  Princess Sadie will not shut up until she gets her own way. She is very smart, but will gorge herself on anything she can sneak off a plate.  She’d kill herself on chocolate if she could.  Rums is one of those little dogs who would jump off the Empire State Building to chase a toy.

That’s what people like Ron Paul, Rand Paul, their followers, Michele Bachman, and all the little libertarian tea party “patriots” are like.  They may be smart, but there is no common sense.  There is not much loyalty.  It is all about having the world look at them, and let them lead, even if it is over a cliff!

P. S. In doggy terms, stalwart, real Republicans like Lindsey, John McCain, George W. Bush, John Boehner, Tom Coburn, Steve Pearce, Jeb Bush etc. are like a my Democrat friend’s late lab, Molly.  Molly was one of the great dogs of all times.  She was smart, kind, loyal, very well behaved, gentle, and very very brave, quite heroic when she attacked a bear who was trying go get at Mike when he was on his bike.  You know where you stand with a lab.  They just keep on keeping on, doing what they should be doing. There’s no show, no yapping, and no drama.

As far as Sarah Palin is concerned, she’s a pit bull.  That can be good and that can be bad. There’s nothing toy poodle about her.





4 thoughts on “The Yapping Poodles of the Far Right

  1. One had better keep the bathroom door closed at my house otherwise my little chihuahua will pull the bath tissue off the roller. She had a good time when I left the house the other day. She pulled tissue off the roller, took it into the dining room and shredded it. It looked like a snow had hit the room when I came home. She doesn’t like cats because my sister’s cat once slapped her face. She goes crazy when she sees a cat. I had quite a bit of damage at the house after Katrina. A squirrel got into the house. If you have never had a chihuahua chase a squirrel through your house, then believe me you don’t know it all. I loved your comparison of the right wingers to the poodles. It’s really funny. Have you ever seen those shorts on TCM with only dogs in the cast? Imagine the next session of congress where all the senators and representatives are dogs. Wouldn’t that be an eye opener?

  2. That is one of my worst nightmares! The dog chasing a squirrel!

    One Christmas Eve I had one come down my chimney. It was terrifying because my father and neighbor were trying to get it out without it getting lose. I could just see it going up my Christmas tree. Fortunately they caught it. I still refuse to ask what they did.


  3. Growing up, there was a pampered white poodle who lived in the house behind ours, with a wood fence between the properties. Once, and only once, that poodle snuck into our yard. We only saw his backside in high gear, our cat Charlotte riding him like a horse with her claws stuck into the poor fella’s haunches… the duo ran all the way to the fence where the poodle [smartly] scraped off Charlotte and slid underneath to safety. The cat was dazed but triumphant.

    Yes I like your analogy. And I think you are right that the big kids are going to have to duke it out with the bullies, and soon. It’s happening in small doses, here and there, if you pay attention. I really loathe the tactics of the wingnuts. The thought of doing battle with them is truly nauseating, and I can see why many people are avoiding it.

  4. Don’t get me wrong, the toys can be quite fierce. That’s the problem. They have no street smarts or common sense. And, they usually get their clocks cleaned by a cat.

    Sev weeks ago Rums was visiting Sadie. When Rums goes visiting his grandparents, the cats dive for cover. He keeps yapping at them, not quite brave enough to go up under a chair or sofa to take them out. I lifted the sofa allowing Fred and Belva to escape. Rums went after them. They jumped on either side of him and began smacking the little guy in the face. They had no claws but were hitting him so hard you could hear them hit his little face. I was standing behind a chair. He jumps up on the chair, leaps on the back of it, and cowers in my arms, crying. Miss Scarlet (the drag queen) sat between the room where we were and the kitchen. By this time the little guy wanted a drink of something! Each time he would make a move toward the kitchen Miss Scarlet would hiss at him, sending him back to me. They were quite pleased with themselves.


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