ARE YOU THERE, DOG?

I've been depressed lately.  I don't get out much, and I'm alone pretty much most of the time.  I stay inside at all times, I've got something of an issue with the outside world: I don't like it.  The only times I do go out is to walk my dog, a husky-mix named Trevor.  My dog told me to kill the president today.  I was of course shocked at his ability to speak, but was also dismayed by his poor grasp of modern politics.  You see, the name he mentioned was president Harry S. Truman.  When I explained this to him, he shouted "No!  I'm too late!" and then he ran around in a circle for a minute, snapped at the air, and then lay down in front of the TV, utterly depressed.  I've tried to get him to speak to me again, but he's not having it.  He's too depressed. That makes two of us.