Dear President-elect Barack Obama:

I know you have a lot of tough decisions to make in the next two months, but I'd like to offer you a suggestion on one. I know you have been flooded with suggestions, especially about this particular decision, but please listen.

No, it's not about secretary of state (that's easy, take Hillary, not Kerry).

It's about the dog.

Mr. President-elect, I feel your pain. There are few things that can melt a parent's heart more quickly than a child pleading for a dog.

I know. My boys were just a little older than Malia and Sasha when I caved - er, I mean - I welcomed our dog into our home.

So, Mr. President-elect, I'd like to pass on the pain - er, I mean - the pleasure I received when we greeted Emma.

Emma is our cocker spaniel, and she really is a pretty dog.

So, I would like to offer Emma as the first pet.

Now, doesn't that have a ring to it? Emma Obama? America would love it.

And Emma has some good qualities. I guarantee that Emma will bark hysterically any time a jogger passing the White House threatens you. If you heard Emma chasing away a jogger, you would think that Osama himself was hiding in the bushes, waiting to attack.

The watchdog in her seems to be in hyper mode at 6 o'clock. In the morning. On Sunday.

And you should hear her if that jogger is running with another dog. The spit needs to be removed from the window or the hazmat team will be arriving.

If you have a squirrel problem there at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave., Emma will take care of it. It takes her a good 30 minutes to cool down after the mere sight of a bushy-tailed varmint in our yard. Oh, yeah, there's the matter of our yard. Or, as I like to call it, Emma's toilet.

Emma likes to do her business in our yard and only our yard. More importantly, she is very picky about what spot she picks to do her business. It can take her a good 20 minutes before she finally settles on a perfect location for her next gift. Even if it's 100 degrees outside or zero degrees outside or snowing or ...

This was one of the factors that turned the pleas in our house from "Dad, we'll take care of a dog, REALLY," to, "You walk her - No, I walked her last."

To be honest, Emma is not the smartest dog I've ever seen. I thought every dog could play fetch. Not Emma. We quickly learned that Emma simply does not like to share.

Unless, that is, it is YOUR food. She definitely wants to share that.

For instance, I happen to like bananas. But I can't eat them in our house. If I try to quietly unseal a banana while she appears to be sound asleep, those floppy ears perk up, she runs to me and then the whining begins.

Oh, yes, Emma and sleeping. That is basically what Emma does - when she's not barking at joggers or finding the perfect location for a backyard gift. And we, being such suckers for a pretty face (have I told you she's a pretty dog?), naturally let her sleep on our couch.

We'll be replacing that couch soon.

But really, Mr. President-elect, please disregard those last few sentences. Emma has many good qualities. Have I told you she's a pretty dog?

And that name, Emma Obama. America would love it.

So please consider Emma for first pet.

Please.

MIKE KIRBY is editor of The Sun Chronicle. He can be reached at 508-236-0344 or at mkirby@thesunchronicle.com.