It all starts when Mummy puts red and white fluffy
collars with little bells on us before going for our neighborhood sniff after the sun has gone
to bed. We stand in a field in the
middle of our town with lots of other similarly humiliatingly clad dogs and
their humans until a big tree suddenly lights up with lots of brightly colored
stars. I don’t really understand what
the fuss is about, but humans amuse easily and get very excited about it,
especially the small ones.
And then there’s the annual photo shoot. Mummy seems to think it’s necessary to send a
picture of us sitting with an old dude who doesn’t seem to think there’s a problem
with wearing a red body cover with white fluffy trim. This year she excelled herself by making us
wear antlers too. We tried to shake them
off but the human with the picture box was too quick. The only comfort I can find in having to
suffer this indignity is that to get these pictures, Mummy has to give some of the
green stuff that buys dog biscuits to help dogs less fortunate than us.
Of course, our security duty gets dramatically increased
during this time which leaves little time for writing. All the kennels in our neighborhood have
extra motorized dog carriers outside, necessitating increased vigilance when it
comes to threat assessment. On top of
this, there is one day when lots of humans come and go from our kennel all
afternoon. We sit at the entrance and
try to count them in and out, but even with 16 toes, 2 ears and a tail each, it
can be really easy to lose track. The
only upside is that the humans leave lots of toys and treats under the tree
that we get to play with the next morning.
At last the tree has hibernated in the garage until the next holiday season and all the toys have crawled
back into their boxes under the stairs.
Finally we get a chance to relax and return life to normal.
Talisker
