Yes, Rigby, There Is A Santa Claus

Not that I ever for a moment questioned it being a cold hard fact.  I need only look back on the years of Christmas presents Santa left me to confirm that he is in fact real.  This year, for instance, he brought me a stuffed gator and a cardboard box to destroy. 

 

Okay, maybe Santa didn’t bring me the box.  Maybe, just maybe, I stole it.  Maybe someone else’s present came in that box and I helped myself to the packaging when they weren’t looking (the shredded and drenched remains have been disposed of…there’s no way to prove anything anymore). 

But this post isn’t about the origins of a former box.  This post is about Santa.  Santa is real and he’s totally dedicated to making sure that good dogs who 

• Only cause a moderate level of chaos in their day-to-day life,
• Only destroy a certain number of shoes each year, and 
• Only bark when goaded by pedestrians, vehicles, animals, and imaginary beings passing by their house 

get all that they deserve no matter what it takes.

You see, apparently, after dropping off my presents underneath the tree at home, Santa must have discovered that one had been accidentally left behind in his sleigh (maybe it slid underneath his seat).  Santa must have already been well past my house when he discovered this, and since he had a lot of other stops to make that night, it must not have made sense for him to circle back just to drop off one single package.  But Santa didn’t want to disappoint me either, so he decided that he would leave my final present underneath the tree in the house out east.  And sure enough, that’s where I found it, nearly a week after Christmas:  A neatly wrapped package (which I promptly destroyed) housing a giant plush green pickle toy. 

But there was more than just a toy underneath the tree to prove that Santa had been to the house.  There were other clues as well. 

For instance, it appears that Santa might have misjudged his trajectory when he landed in the yard.  As soon as we arrived at the house, my family and I discovered that an entire panel of the backyard fence had been broken off from the rest and was lying flat on the ground.  When Pa propped it back up to keep me from wandering off through it and into the neighbor’s yard, he discovered that many of the boards had been snapped in two as if they had been stepped on. 

And what stepped on those boards?  Reindeer of course!  In fact, there were hoof-prints all over the backyard. 

Not to mention, there were skid marks in the grass from when Santa’s sleigh finally touched ground.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I really appreciate what Santa did.  He didn’t have to swing by to drop off that nearly forgotten present.  But listening to my family debate whether or not they anticipate Santa having “sleigh insurance,” I can’t help but agree with the lyrics from an old Christmas song:  “They should never give a license, to a man who drives a sleigh and plays with elves.”

Christmas 2022

 

 

Wishing you a very

Merry Christmas.

 

 

A Turkey Toy-Toy

Behold!  My 400th post (in dog posts, that’s 2,800) and boy are my paws tired!

Sorry, I couldn’t resist saying that.

A lot has changed in the ten years and 399 posts since a rude lizard who jettisoned its tail to get away from me sparked this journey of me sharing my stories with the world.  But the one constant throughout all those years (aside from my devilishly good looks and quick wit of course)?  Sister’s laziness.  Perhaps we’d be up to 800 posts if only Sister would procrastinate less and type faster.  Case in point, the following happened two weeks ago back on Thanksgiving Day.  It just goes to show you, you just can’t get good help these days. 

Anyway, onto the events of Thanksgiving Day 2022. 

On Thanksgiving, I got two turkeys.  I got:

• A sample of my family’s turkey which, while ridiculously small, was tasty (as a side note, I have been instrumental in finishing off the left-over sweet potatoes from that day)
• An awesome plush turkey toy from Aunt B.
  

Turkey Time!

How awesome was this plush turkey?  Well, for one thing, I’ve had it two weeks now and not only have I not ripped it to shreds, but it even still has some semblance of a squeaker.  Also, I hate to be separated from it. 

You see, on Thanksgiving night, after spending the day begging for samples, playing with my new turkey, and keeping Aunt B company, I was understandably exhausted (it takes an awful lot of work to be my happy-go-lucky self).  Anyway, that evening I wandered off to bed with my family and after collecting my goodnight liver treat, I settled down on my pillow.  I snoozed for about twenty minutes, but then, all of a sudden, I jumped up and headed out the bedroom door and into the main part of the house.  Ma and Pa called for me to come back to bed, but assumed that I had merely gone out to get a drink of water (those liver bits can be a bit salty).  But I wasn’t going for a drink.  No, instead, a few seconds later, Ma heard me slink back into the bedroom and soon could sense that I had come to her side of the bed and was standing essentially snout to snout with her.  Ma cautiously opened her eyes and, even in the darkness, could see that I was standing by her side, staring at her with a goofy half-asleep look on my face and my tail a-wagging loopily.  In my mouth was my turkey.  Once Ma admired my turkey and told me how lucky I was to have such a nice toy-toy, I then scurried over to Pa’s side of the bed and showed him.  After showing off my prize, I returned to my pillow and fell back asleep, turkey by my side.

Got any stuffin'?

But that’s not all.  A few days later I was sitting at my desk in the office (Sister brought down to the office the orthopedic pillow she kept for me in her bedroom (which I never use) so now I don’t have to worry about leaving my nighttime sleeping pillow at work) when I once again suddenly jumped up from a sound sleep, scurried into the living room, retrieved my turkey, and stalked back into the office.  I then threw myself down on my pillow and hunkered down for a long nap with my turkey.