My dog entered my home office this morning and sat down. He casually crossed his legs as though prepared to engage in a nice long chat. He then gazed about the room slowly in undisguised distain, before eventually shaking his head in apparent sadness.
He’s been known to make caustic remarks regarding my lack of housekeeping skills. Yet, when one considers ninety percent of the problem is dog hair blanketing the chair, the floor, my desk, my clothes, the plants, the corner vacuum cleaner, and a cat I was unaware that we owned, I’m thinking I’m not the problem.
He handed me a typewritten sheet of paper and informed me he was adding to his Christmas list. He had initially mailed me a certified letter containing a three-page compilation in August and has added multiple items to it almost every week since.
I reminded him there are only two weeks remaining until Christmas Day, but he retorted that it should not be a problem, even for me, in that all of his newly added requests were readily available locally.
I scanned the list thoroughly before glancing at him. “Um, it says here you want a new car.”
He leaned over to chew on his tail for a moment before glancing up at me. He nodded.
“There’s nothing wrong with our current one,” I explained, and I hoped my manner toward him resonated extreme patience. “It’s only four years old and it has a lot of life left in it. And you have a comfortable bed on the back seat and a nice warm blanket with fifteen tons of dog hair on it.”
“I was referring to a new car for myself.”
I placed his list on my desk. “Well, first of all, you don’t know how to drive.” I reclined in my chair to study my once clean white ceiling, now tan to match my dog’s fur. “And have you considered that you’re not human and therefore cannot acquire a driver’s license? So, how about a nice new bone instead?”
He shook his head slowly.
“Again, you can’t get a driver’s license.”
“I know some people.”
I tilted my head in interest. “Really,” I said in feigned amazement. “What people?”
“The right people.”
I glanced at his list again. “It also says here that you want a dog.”
He held his left front paw up to his mouth and bit quickly onto his nails. “Yes, someone to chase the ball when I throw it, roll over on command, sit, you know, that sort of thing.”
“You’re supposed to perform those kinds of tricks.”
“Tricks? I am not a harlot.”
I sighed. “Okay, I’ll pass this along to Santa Claus and we’ll see what he comes up with.” I eyed my desk drawer where the list would soon find a permanent home.
My dog licked his tummy briefly before he jumped down from his chair. He strolled over to the window and raised himself until he stood upright with his front paws resting on the sill. He contemplated the street below. “Should he give you the hint of any kind of trouble,” he added over his shoulder, his back to me, “you might remind him that I know some people, people he wouldn’t want to meet.”
“Now, you know you don’t mean that. You love Santa.”
His back remained to me, and he said softly, “Yes, you’re quite right. I’m joking.”
Nevertheless, I thought it best to forward my dog’s newest list to Santa without further delay.
Overnight delivery.
And may I add to all who celebrate it, a Merry Christmas from us both!
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This is very funny stuff.