In a fictional White House where safety and security are of tantamount importance, the roof is the highest security zone, occupied by sharpshooters and protocol aides on break, a careworn First Lady and a contingent of dogs, well-beloved by the President, who discourse among themselves on the politics of the day. But one of the dogs, Dunker, has a problematic past: an involvement in a monstrous street crime.

Frauline, the daughter of Chief-of-Protocol, Frank, works as the trainer and wrangler of the dog pack. It's a good job, given the importance of the dogs to the President, but her father has higher aspirations for her, since he himself is ambitious and has been a loyal employee for many years. He installs her as chairperson of a committee to determine the choice of First Dog - a very important role. However, as the more experienced administrators discuss the matter, Frauline ends up largely excluded from the decision-making process. A new mongrel, Laddie Boy, scorned by the other dogs, is selected as First Dog. Then, in a casual, closed meeting, without consulting Frauline, the committee agrees to kill Dunker, whose criminal involvement makes him a public image liability - even though Frauline has been working with the dog and has insisted to her father that he is "reformed." The execution is to be carried out as the animal has its evening walk. One of the sharpshooters on the White House roof will shoot Dunker at long range.

Frank, however, worries that this will put Frauline in danger, and arranges to walk the dog himself. Indeed, the shot misses Dunker and fatally wounds Frank. There is an attempt to cover up the story of how Frank died. Frauline deduces the truth, and is deeply troubled. Her very innocence in the matter is an indictment of the world she has come to be a part of, but not a member of. She feels compelled to avenge this curious non-crime, which was not really an intentional murder, but a concealment and a travesty.

The act of violence which she perpetrates in response has the quality of a sacrifice, but it is senseless and utterly cruel. She does it without any idea of what it will accomplish and believes it will cut her loose from her attachments at the White House. However, the blood on her hands does not serve to cut her loose but binds her more tightly to the White House: it becomes her initiation into a domain of power where as a condition of belonging you must show that you are willing to set aside all childish things like moral qualms.

Throughout the action, The White House Dogs are like a Greek chorus of clowns, joyously declaring themselves Partially Trained, barking and bitingly mad, but having had all their shots.