I was watching Bobby Kennedy for President last week and laughed when Kennedy, after learning that he won the Democratic primary in California—and just before he was shot—said the following about his dog, Freckles:

I want to express my gratitude to my dog, Freckles, who’s been maligned. I don’t care what they say—as Franklin Roosevelt said—“I don’t care what they say about me, but when they start to attack my dog. . .”

Kennedy then embraces a sly grin, and the crowd erupts in cheers and laughter.

I also just finished FDR by Jean Edward Smith, and found the quote that Kennedy was referring to:

These Republican leaders have not been content with attacks on me, or my wife, or my sons. No, they now include my little dog, Fala. Well, of course, I don’t resent attacks, and my family doesn’t resent attacks, but Fala does resent them. You know, Fala is Scotch, and being a Scottie, as soon as he learned that the Republican fiction writers in Congress had concocted a story that I had left him behind on an Aleutian Island and had sent a destroyer back to find him—at a cost to the taxpayers of two or three, or eight or twenty million dollars—his Scotch soul was furious. He has not been the same dog since. I am accustomed to hearing malicious falsehoods about myself . . . but I think I have a right to resent, to object to libelous statements about my dog.

It was also pretty funny that, after Kennedy thanked Freckles, he said:

I'm not doing this in order of importance, but I also want to thank my wife, Ethel. [Loud laughter and cheers.]