First Cat tries to lead normal life at white House

By Hillary Rodham Clinton

After sleeping through most of a two-day car ride from Little Rock, he slipped into the White House on Super Bowl Sunday 1993. And life for Socks, our five-year-old cat, hasn't been the same since.

Each week, he gets some 200 letters and e-mail messages from children, senior citizens and animal lovers around the world. Admirers from Ethiopia, India, Japan, Italy, Germany and 50 other foreign countries have written seeking glamour shots and "paw graphs" (Socks' pawprint signature). He's been immortalized in poems and in finger paint. And from a home page on the Internet, Socks alter ego takes children on cybertours of the White House.

But Socks has adapted to life as First Cat with typical feline dignity and aplomb. The friendly, down-to-earth stray kitten that Chelsea and I found abandoned in front of a neighbor's house so many years ago hasn't let fame of to his head. Multiple proposals of marriage, countries invitations to parties and mobs of adoring fans at goodwill visits to area hospitals have failed to change him. He's rarely in a bad mood and walks straight up to groups of delighted visitors (unless they're photographers).

Socks gets so much mail that he and the volunteers at the Soldiers and Airmen's Home in Washington who answer his letters can only send photos and thank-you greetings. People want to know "What is it like to be the First Cat?", "Where do you?" "How do you spend your days?", "Do you have a Secret Service agent?" Unfortunately, it's impossible for every question to be answered personally. So I thought I might take this change to let you in on some of the mysteries behind the life of the First Cat.

Like most of his firs-pet predecessors, Socks tries to lead as normal a life as possible in the White House. He loves to spend sunny days in the yard outside the Oval Office, where the President's personal secretary (one of Socks' greatest admirers) can keep an eye on him. Because he doesn't have a Secret Service Agent and could easily slip past the fences that enclose the White House, he roams the yard on 60-foot leash.

We worried that the might not like the restriction, but the long leash hasn't kept him from chasing squirrels and birds, or even from making friends. For a few months, a stray tabby cat, whom we called Slippers, used to visit Socks and share his water and dried food. (The vet put Socks on a a strict diet after he gained a few too many pounds from munching on all the snacks White House staff fed him.)

While he doesn't have free reign over the place, Socks has settled on some favorite spots in the White House. He likes to snuggle on a wing chair in the receiving room just outside the Oval Office and on the windowsills in an office near the front entrance. In the summertime, he lounges on the cool marble floors in the foyer. He has become good friends with the White House engineers, who are on duty 24 hours a day, and sleeps in their basement office in a special Ivory brocade ottoman that has been converted into a cozy "cat house".

The volunteers have helped Socks keep and album of some of his favorite letters and Christmas cards. Pictures are a frequent gift from pen pals. Children have sent in their own portraits of the First Cat. Socks has a large collection of portraits of feline friends such as Radar, Pepperoni and Popcorn, a few canines and even a 15-year-old turtle named Stubby. He treasured a photo of Tootsie a potential fiancee. A black and white cat just like Socks, Tootsie dressed up in a wedding gown and veil to give her intended a preview of their nuptials.

As the holiday season approaches, Socks will be stepping up his public appearance schedule, once again holding court at hospitals and children's homes in Washington, and purring to the touch of dozens of tiny hands. It's not a bad life. He tells me he's hoping four more years.

-- Creators Syndicate, Inc.