On Saturday, people who I love will gather at my house and celebrate Christmas Eve.  We’ll have delicious finger foods, wonderful desserts including a blueberry pie with Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla ice cream.  If you don’t live where they sell Blue Bell, my deepest condolences, you really should consider Texas as a vacation destination just for the ice cream.   Tomorrow I will be cleaning and organizing like a fiend and that will include dusting the tops of tall things I usually don’t worry about for the people who are taller than me and can see them, and the dreaded cleaning of the fridge because people will be opening it.  It will get it done, all will be fine.

Today, however, has been a different story.  It started out okay; I went to my favorite grocery store to pick up some last-minute items, some rolls, stocking stuffers and items for our gift exchange game, rolling my cart down the aisle to Christmas carols, feeling very Christmassy.  I enjoyed the trip, all went well.  I came home, put everything up, steam cleaned my rugs, washed some other rugs and basically just did a few things, and finally decided to go and get my nails done.  That was nice and I love my sparkly red fingernails and toes which is very unusual for me as I am not a girly girl, but it looks festive for Christmas.  Still feeling Christmassy.

My dogs had been outside for this short time while I was gone, so I came in first, let them in, patted each of their furry heads and went out to the building to talk to my husband for no more than 5 minutes.  I walk back through the mugginess and light rain to the house, thinking about  filling up the stockings, and as soon as I enter the living area I see it.  Two of the gift bags from under my tree are now confetti and to add insult to injury, someone (I have my suspicions) peed a circle on my clean rug and the Great Dane has peed on the corner of the couch.

Let me explain something, this tree has been up for 3 weeks and the presents have been under it since last weekend and nary a dog has even glanced in that direction.  I have been so impressed and proud of them, but it was all a rouse.   And, this was no peeing emergency; they had just come in from being outside for over an hour.  Ugh.  Apparently, it was only the shiny bags and bows that needed killing because the gifts inside were unscathed, even if Sophie the giraffe’s packaging didn’t fare so well.

I guess the really galling part is that none of them, other than Peaches who is the tattle-tell of the bunch, had the decency to act appalled at their wanton behavior.  One of them even had the audacity of think I was playing a game while picking up the minute particles, now stuck to the wet rug that had not finished drying.  I take a deep breath, pick it all up, and discard the debris.

It’s all quiet now, most of them are laying on their beds like all is right with the world, which, I guess in their world it is because Operation Gift Obliteration was a success – they got in, they got out, and I don’t have a clue who to blame, although if Peaches could talk I would have known immediately.  Shasta is lying by her bowl, guarding it, Lady Bug is lying at my feet and my husband just shook his head when I told him.  The cat has no comment.

I’ve re-wrapped the presents, stuck on a new bow, and made a barricade around the tree and announced to them that their reign of terror is over because my brain is bigger than theirs and I have opposable thumbs.   I’m tired now, one of my fingernails is smudged and I’m drinking wine out of a small plastic mug.  I think I’ll make some chicken fingers, with gravy because everyone knows cream gravy combats stress, and later I’m going to have some Blue Bell ice cream with my husband while we sit and watch whatever re-run is on TV – all is right with my world again, at least for tonight.

Peace on earth and goodwill to all, even bad dogs.  Merry Christmas.

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