Christmas Eve: No dogs were harmed, just humans

I got a brand new soda maker for Christmas, which was a terrific present, all things considered.

Many of you will know that pouring soda water on a carpet is an effective means of stain removal. We used an entire bottle of it last night to get at least four stains out that were made by Finnigan who used his tail to clear the coffee table of pop, Scotch, red wine and tea.

This morning, I discovered a few trails also left by Sophie who took the late shift, clearing the coffee table of leftover butter tart wrappers and napkins which she pre-chewed.

Young dogs make excellent hosts at Christmas. They greet the rellies at the door, keep them at bay until they remove their shoes, jump all over their good Christmas togs, then puke on the humans, just when they are about to reach for their drinks. The pups also thrill at the responsibilities of chewing guest shoes if they are left on the floor, instead of locked in a cupboard somewhere, and opening presents if they are carelessly left under the tree.

I'm considering having everyone sign a release upon entering the premise.

Along with installing a sign "enter at your own risk".

Finnigan was in fine form last night, jumping on Stefan's head all evening, and lifting his chin at the exact moment Stefan's lower jaw was directly over it, leaving my son with a fat lip and a sliced tongue. This was just after Stef, who is an animal expert thanks to years of watching Animal Planet, declared that Finnigan's pointy head was genetically engineered as a fulcrum of sorts, an ideal means of snapping a person's arm in half.


And then there was the issue of the Christmas photos which I was instructed to delete immediately given the fact that they were all unflattering and spontaneous and captured my adult children at their worst moments, particularly Stef who for the first Christmas in his young life was sporting a significant paunch.

I showed him the photo which so funny I was weeping with laughter. He immediately started making excuses, suggesting that it was not paunch under the t-shirt, and was merely a case of shirt bunching.

I suggested that perhaps he had been having too many calorie laden meals at the restaurant where he works. That, and the beer.

"Okay, I'm giving up beer," he said putting his second can down on the table and reaching for the Scotchy Scotch he had planned on drinking through the night.

Several times, I caught him doing jumping jacks just before he stuffed his mouth with Skittles.

Then he settled in to engage his sister and brother-in-law in a one-sided discussion of the history of the Nintendo franchise.

All in all, it was a wonderful evening spent chattering and watching bad Christmas movies accompanied by Swedish meat balls and Comforting Beef Sandwiches.

It was a complete success though I can't say that no humans were harmed.

That would be a lie.

Finnigan made sure of that and the kids have scars and scrapes as evidence.

Today, we will be quiet.

My children all have gigs elsewhere.

Oh well, more food for us.

More scenarios for the dogs to misbehave.

Hope you are having a lovely Christmas Day.

Be safe out there and keep the soda water at ready.

You never know when you might encounter a Labrador Retriever.


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