Christmas Roundup 2023

It’s been nearly a week since Christmas and all I can say is this: “Christmas is a young pup’s game.”

I am exhausted.  Totally and completely exhausted.  I’m so worn out from Christmas festivities (late night snacks and movies on Christmas Eve and presents, company, and limited naps on Christmas Day) that I’ve been walking around like a zombie ever since.  I’m so tired the dark circles under my eyes have dark circles.  I’m so pooped that I completely lost track of what was going on and found myself gnawing on Puddle’s head thinking it was a bone.

Puddles and me.

Puddle's no worse for wear.

But boy oh boy did I have fun on Christmas!  Here’s a quick rundown of some of the festivities:

I shredded wrapping paper.

I annihilated cardboard.

I played, gnawed on, and rested my eyes with all the toys Santa, my family, and Gina (and her pups Baci and Rocky) gave me and sampled all the cookies and treats I got from Santa and Karin (and her pups Mecki and Bastille).

So, like I said, Christmas was great.  My only complaint was that no one “accidentally” dropped a meatball for me at dinner time.

Christmas 2023

 

Wishing my family, friends, and devoted readers a very Merry Christmas!

Outtakes:

Calendar Pup

I’m no stranger to fame.  Obviously I have this blog and all the notoriety that comes with it, but I’ve also been featured on four separate social media posts (once for my estate and three time for library related offerings) and I’ve attended numerous parades held in my honor (okay, my birthday might have coincidentally fallen on Memorial Day a couple of times).  But now I’ve reached a brand-new level of fame…I am featured in a 2024 calendar!

You see, Sister’s co-worker Lisa put together a calendar of all the furry faces who live with the office’s employees.  There’s a fair number of cats featured (what can I say…you can’t account for taste) but there’s also a lot of pups and yours truly is featured in June and October and is the star of November.

I’m thinking I might have to invest in a stamp pad and some paper; strangers will surely soon be asking for my autograph.

Like Father, Like Son

There are moments when I think I surely must have been adopted and then something happens and I find myself saying “nope, I’m definitely one of them.”

Today, I was in a big hurry to return home from my morning walk with Pa.  You see, when I come home from a walk, I get a “good boy treat” and some days I can hardly wait to collect (I suspect that on those days I’ve been short changed on my breakfast, but I’ve never been able to prove it because I gobble it all up before I can count the individual kibble).   Anyway, I was so excited about my “good boy treat” that I pretty much dragged Pa past the last few houses and up the driveway.  Once I got past the side gate and was released from my leash, I ran full force toward the side door.

Now the problem with rushing, I’ve found, is that sometimes, in one’s haste, one starts to lose track of important things.   For me, there were four important things that I forgot about: my four feet.  In racing toward the door, my legs got all tangled up with each other and I ultimately ended up in a heap on the side step. 

This isn’t the first time I’ve ended up in such a state.  In fact, I’m frequently reminded by my family that I need to take it slow going up those stairs (“You’re a hundred and seven years old” they tell me).  Yet time and time again, I take a good long runup, leap in the direction of the landing, and either trip over the steps or clear the steps completely at such a speed that I end up skidding into the door with a mighty bang.   After checking to make sure I’m okay, my family then proceeds to remind me of the mistakes I’ve made.

So, there I was, lying in a heap on the steps.   A moment later, Pa came over, hoisted me up, and opened the door to let me in, all the while reminding me that I’m over 100.  As I walked into the house, Pa proceeded to follow but, in the process, managed to trip over his own feet (and he only has two of them).  Having cleared the door, I look back over my shoulder to see Pa in a crumpled heap on the side steps exactly where I had been moments before. 

Pa was alright; he was no worse for wear.  He got up, brushed himself off, and followed me into the house.  I won’t lie, I found the entire event rather funny.   Like father, like son, I thought.   Ma and Sister?  They laughed at “their boys.”