I love Christmas. Most wonderful time of the year, if you ask me. Of course, no one ever does. But that’s okay. I consider myself to be the strong, silent type. Also the brave, handsome, daring, lovable, adventurous, and affectionate type.
Christmas around here begins with a gigantic feast. My humans spend all day cooking turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, corn, and pumpkin pie. As always, there are plenty of leftovers for a good hound, like me. The humans throw around the phrase, “thanks giving” on this day. I am not sure what it means, but I know I like it.
I also like the next phase of Christmas. We all go out to a farm and select a tree to bring home. I always help with the selection process by marking my picks for top tree.
Once the humans get the tree set up, they start in with the boxes. They haul boxes down from the attic and they unload the best stuff. There is something called tinsel that makes a great crunchy noise when you chew it. And the wads of newspaper they wrap little glass things in is delectable.
This is also the most dangerous part of the holiday. For it is at this time, that the Christmas villain is released from its cage to wreak mayhem on the household. Never fear, dear family. I, brave hound, will battle the villain and protect you from his evil forces.
The villain goes around and around the tree, running on tracks of pure malady, occasionally letting off a whistle, masquerading as nothing more than a mere train. Ha. I know better than to be fooled by the villain’s pathetic attempt to lull us into a false sense of security.
I chase the villain, around and around the tree, knocking down tree decorations and skidding into boxes as I take the turns too fast. I let out a few intimidating growls, to let the villain know I am onto him. After a valiant chase, I capture the villain and trot off to bury him in an undisclosed location (under the couch cushion).
After I heroically conquer the villain, I enjoy some well deserved egg nog, licking the elixir out of the humans’ cups when they are not looking. I love how the humans are always surprised to find their cups completely empty and are always willing to get a refill.
Over the next few weeks, the Christmas festivities continue. The humans bake cookies, of which I gladly partake, and they wrap things in beautiful, chewy paper, that I have the best time ripping apart with my bare teeth. We often go outside, to romp in the snow.
We have lots of company coming over. It’s always nice to see some new faces. And get some new belly scratches. I have noticed that no humans scratch noble hounds’ bellies in exactly the same way. Uncle Charles gives big, round belly rubs, until you fall into a belly rub stupor. Grandma Alice gives twitchy belly scratches, that almost tickle, yet feel wonderful.
Of course, I could do without the miniature humans, who tend to pull tails and never scratch bellies. However, as a long-suffering and courageous hound, I do make allowances for the little ones. Luckily for them, there seems to be a direct correlation between the size of the human and the messiness of their eating styles, so the extra food I get from them helps make up for many a pulled tail.
On the last day of Christmas, the humans excitedly tear into their boxes under the tree, almost as if they were mere puppies. I just sit back and watch the action. The humans can be pretty cute on Christmas. Eventually, one of the humans will present me with my own package.
I gracefully allow a human to “help” me open my gift. I usually get chew toys or bones. I always know what they are giving me. I can smell it through the paper. That is okay. It is the thought that counts. Plus, already knowing what is inside helps me prepare the perfect facial expression- a blend of surprise, enthusiasm, and delight.
As the holiday comes to a close, I spend the evening dozing on the couch with my humans, as they stare at the talking flat screen. My belly is full and my head is being patted. A very merry Christmas for a hound like me.