Dear President Obama,

Hope you and the family are finally getting settled at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. Moving is bad in the best of times, and with all that's on your plate, it's probably even tougher.

Since the White House is at the top of the government housing heap, I know you'll enjoy your time there. Especially after the basketball court is installed.

But making a happy household involves more than getting the clothes unpacked and the kids enrolled in a new school. New places always bring new challenges. Especially when a new member joins the family.

Which is why I'm writing. It's about the new White House puppy. The night you won the election, you told your daughters the family would be taking a new puppy to Washington. That's one promise I'm glad you didn't keep. Moving with a dog is misery.

The latest puppy report said you were waiting for warmer weather to get the pooch because nice weather would make it easier for the girls to walk the dog.

That's a good move, too. Housebreaking a puppy in subzero weather is enough to make any child think twice about taking Rover on a restroom run.

But the big question on dog lovers' minds has been..."What kind of mutt are you going to get?"

That question has finally been answered. According to every press outlet from the Washington Post to People magazine, the new pooch will be a Portuguese Water Dog. White House spokespeople said the breed would cause fewer of the allergy problems that affect your daughters.

I hope it turns out to be a good choice, but please remember that the most important thing about dogs isn't their allergy quotient but how they take to training.

If your Water Dog winds up as Wild Thing, allergies will be the last thing on your mind. You'll be much more worried about replacing the furniture or shoes or law office records the dog has devoured. (Not to mention lawsuits brought by bureaucrats bitten during an Oval Office visit.)

And believe me, you can't choose a dog by its cover. One of the best-looking dogs I ever had was also my worst. He was my first. His name was Pickles, and he was an absolute horror.

Back then, terrorism wasn't a big worry, but Pickles could have made Osama bin Laden back up and think twice.

In fact, if Pickles were still with us, he could be airdropped into Afghanistan, and in days, Al Qaida would be begging us to retrieve Pickles and let them live in peace.

My best dog, on the other hand, was an accidental acquisition named Biscuit. He was "adopted" by the kids when they found him shivering by a school bus stop in a snowstorm.

He was sweet and gentle as could be, but didn't mind worth a lick. This often made for social discomfort. Especially when neighbors asked us to come disentangle our dog from theirs during mating season, which for Biscuit never ended.

The only command he followed was an order to jump in your lap. He wouldn't sit, come or heel on command. Kind of like the U.S. Congress.

But you know what, Mr. President? He was a great dog. Mostly because, no matter what happened, he loved us. He didn't care what we'd done or where we'd been or who we'd let down. He adored us through good times and bad.

We were happy to return the favor.

That may be one reason why so many presidents have had dogs. In your job, Mr. President, a dog may often be the only friend you've got. Find one that loves you, and you'll never regret it.

I'm sure you will, and I look forward to meeting the mutt soon. As an American citizen, I have just one request where the canine is concerned:

Please don't name him Snoop.

Thank you, and may God Bless America and the new First Dog.

Your pal,

Alex (Send your e-mail comments to: alex@newnan.com)