5Pauline Wayne the Cow
Taft was the fattest president to ever grace the White House. Tipping the scales at a weighty 300+ pounds, it seems only fitting the 27th president of the United States would have a cow as his first pet.
Pauline Wayne was quite the heifer herself, although how the Holstein got the name Pauline Wayne is unknown. She was a gift from a Wisconsin senator who presumably thought the always hungry president would slaughter the cow and invite him over for steaks on the grill.
Instead, Taft let the cow graze--and presumably shit profusely on--the White House lawn. In turn, she provided raw milk (and possibly crippling diarrhea) to the first family for the last three years of Taft's presidency.
Although we couldn't find a source on this, it's likely Pauline supplied the gallon of butter that Taft and six White House aides needed to free the president from the White House bathtub every morning.
After a buttery-soft Taft left office, Pauline--the last cow ever to call the White House home--was shipped back to Wisconsin. The steaks were excellent.
4Billy the Pygmy Hippo
Billy the Pygmy Hippo found his way to the White House via Liberia after he was captured there by Harvey Firestone, maker of Firestone tires. There's a certain irony to capturing and enslaving an animal from a country that was founded by freed slaves from the United States, but we digress...
Firestone believed the pygmy hippo would make a wonderful gift for President Coolidge, already a collector of strange and exotic pets. By the time Billy arrived, Coolidge had amassed an assortment of dogs, birds, a wallaby and a domesticated raccoon named Rebecca, a filthy but favorite pet of the first lady.
Just look at how happy that raccoon makes Grace.
But it turned out "pygmy hippo" was a misleading term (no doubt coined by the crooked hippo pet industry) and Billy eventually grew too big to stay at the White House. At this point begins a string of events that would lead Billy to become more influential in the hippo world than Coolidge was among the humans.
First, the Coolidge clan turned him over to the Smithsonian National Zoological Park. He had developed a reputation as being "frisky" and, with zookeepers eager to get their hands on some pygmy hippo baby-batter, he was paired with another hippo, Hannah. The two made lousy parents, culminating in the death of their third child when Hannah rolled over and crushed it.
Like most teenage parents, the two eventually figured out what to do with the kids: let someone else deal with them. In this case, it was zookeepers from across the country. Over the course of the next 25 years, Billy got busy getting busy with Hannah. In all, she gave birth to 15 of his children. While she spent her days being pregnant, Billy continued to sew his wild oats with another hippo gal pal, Matilda, who popped out an additional eight kids.
Above: A hippo, probably fucking something.
Zookeepers were able to breed them and breed them some more, to the point that the majority of pygmy hippos in captivity today are direct descendants of Billy. So, not only did he spread his seed across a large chunk of the globe, but he lived until 1955... outliving Coolidge by 23 years. If hippos had high schools, they'd name one after Billy.