In the annals of presidential campaign coverage, I am an asterisk, and a tiny one at that – the journalist who unearthed the story of how Mitt Romney once drove to Canada with his dog Seamus in a carrier strapped to the roof of the family station wagon. In the nearly five years that have passed since I dug up that golden nugget, there’s been so much chatter about the anecdote that “Romney” and “dog” have become inseparable dance partners in Google searches entered around the world. (In just one sample week last month, that search snagged hundreds of fresh Web mentions.) Still, I have refrained from writing more about the Romneys’ Irish setter and his bout of highway-borne gastric distress. The reason? I dread the thought that Seamus might somehow make it into the lead paragraph of my eventual obituary.