I don’t know about you but I, for one, am tired of passive-aggressive strangers coming to my door and demanding in chorus that I promptly provide figgy pudding and threatening that they will not leave until they get some.
Oh well, it’s that time of year when Max and I indulge in the behaviors that annually get us placed on Santa’s naughty list.
This year’s coal-in-the-stocking trick was sneaking across our suburban lawn to the neighbor’s Nativity Scene and inserting near the manger, Max’s former favorite squeeze toy, Hedgie the Hedgehog.
Hedgie was recently savaged by Max in a fit of pique and the injury was beyond the Alpha Japanese Female’s ability to repair with needle and thread.
She wanted to toss out the ill-fated placental mammal (Google it) but I secreted Hedgie away against the day when Max and I could use him for nefarious purposes. You never want to waste a good hedgehog.
As we speak, Hedgie is wedged between a camel and what I think is a pig but might be a goat, both bowed in adoration before the Baby Jesus who bears an uncanny resemblance to a very small Vin Diesel in swaddling clothes.
I’m pretty sure my neighbor bought his Nativity Scene on closeout at the local SteinMart and yes, the irony burns bright with that statement.
Anyway, it’s been almost five days and the neighbor hasn’t clued to the presence of Hedgie. Each night after the Nativity Scene is lighted, I walk Max past the neighbor’s house and together we surreptitiously wave at Hedgie.
I only wish I could snap a photo, but the Nativity scene is too prominently positioned and I think I’d get caught. Were that to happen, the neighbor’s wife assuredly would complain to the AJF and it would be cold shoulder and tongue for Max and I at Christmas Dinner.
I know, I know. Sometimes I have less class than a Marxist utopia. But, hey, later on it will be good for a snorf or two over eggnog.
Meanwhile, Max is ready for Christmas. He has his costume, more than one actually, and his very own ornament for the Christmas tree. It’s a little creepy because it looks so much like him.
Hoping to get lots of goodies for Christmas, Max and the AJF have recently been treating me like a god. By that I mean the cunning pair has been pleading, begging, and bargaining incessantly whereas before, they ignored my existence.
We’ve decided on ham for Christmas Eve dinner so once again Max will not get turkey. But that’s a story for a future post on this silly dog blog…
Categories: The Dog From Rancho Cucaracha