Secret Service agents get lonely too

People need pets; except tropical fish, which are a form of fungus. Your typical dog or yak provides unconditional love, devotion, and a furry surface to caress — much like your Fed Ex driver. They may even cough up a hair ball just to give your life purpose. The pet, that is.

Joe Barnhart

Have you ever wondered how pets began? Neither have I. No doubt it started with Tyrannosaurus Rex puppies where cavekids were constantly nagged to "get the backyard cleaned up." Today, pets are diligent companions. I spend frolicking hours of in-depth dialogue with my dog, Hank. He smiles constantly — which, at times, causes me to doubt his sincerity:

Me: Good boy, Hank!

Hank: (smiles)

Me: The situation in Syria looks dire.

Hank: (smiles)

Me: Hey, your stinkin' tail's on fire.

Hank: (smiles)

U.S. culture is pet-addicted. So it's not surprising when a group of Secret Service agents stranded in a foreign town like Cartagena, Columbia (nickname: The City of Hot Women) start missing their pets. They crave the comradery, the snuggling and licking. One guy starts describing how ol' Bart, his golden retriever, had to be put down last August and the rest of the crew blubbers like babies.

The stealthy gang probably started down at the Cartagena humane society but eventually everybody got bored and one Secret Service guy, we'll call Dave, said, "Hey, let's find a night club where there are pets of every variety that will surely cure for our out-of-town blues." Dave is a free thinker. He's from California. The cohort was awed with Dave's vision and Ray-Ban Daddy-O sunglasses.

One thing led to another and soon the expanding covert contingent of U.S. Secret Service and military personnel were sharing witty banter with — no disrespect intended — surrogate canines. Eventually, it was back to the hotel where the agents forgot all about their pet loneliness by embracing many a Columbian "ice-breaker" including a form of "Twister" involving lampshades. But when you're lonely, away from home and consuming alcoholic beverages like there's no tomorrow, making the right decision just isn't easy. Twelve out of 10 times, you end up doing something really stupid.

I don't know about you, but it seems perfectly understandable that mistakes will be made when a "jump team" member leaves forlorn Fido to help protect the president of the United States — even if it's in a country notorious for organized drug dealing. Your motto quickly changes from "To serve and protect" to "We like women — lots of them." The lonelier you get, the more you want companionship. It's what the Columbians call, "La donut del desirio" or "A circle of desire."

From the United States' point of view, this situation is embarrassing. But there is a compassionate solution: Canines Offering Kumfort Everywhere (COKE). The Secret Service could fund a multi-billion dollar program, producing specially trained dogs lovingly risking all to be at their international masters' sides. Heck, why stop there; COKE could be dispensed to all politicians guilty of sexual indiscretions. The only problem I see would be keeping up with the demand.