Santa Claus is Coming to Town!

Every year about this time, Santa comes by the house and leaves something nice for me. Unless I tell him exactly what I want, he has to guess. This year I wasn't taking ANY chances. When I talked to my Uncle Rudy about my plans he wanted to come to PETCO, too. That's where Santa was going to be so us pups could give him our Christmas lists. I loaned Rudy my Santa hat from a couple of years ago, put on my new poinsettia collar and "Santa's Little Helper" t-shirt on and off we went.

When we got there we found a sign saying "Santa's feeding his reindeer!". We waited and waited, and pretty soon another kid, "Max" (a small beige and white short haired terrier), got in line. We all got to sniffing each other's butts and playing a little bit. Then Max did the absolutely most everly rudest thing: He pooped right on the floor in front of Santa's chair. OHMYGAWSH...Me and Rudy both ducked behind our mom's legs. Someone was gonna get in trouble and it wasn't us. Max's mom was pretty embarrassed and she went to go find a plastic bag to pop the poop into. Good thing for Max that Santa didn't catch him, and Max's mom got it cleaned up before Santa came back from feeding his reindeer.

I sat on Santa's right knee and Uncle Rudy sat on his left. Both Mom and Auntie C kept saying "cheese", "Kitty", "Chicken", and squeaking some silly looking red stuffie, while doing anything else they could think of to make us smile. We were thinking, for Lord's sake. This has NOTHING to do with them. It's between US and SANTA. The "elf" lady took a bunch of pictures until she got one that both our moms agreed on. All that fuss. If they'd just kept quiet, me and Rudy would have gone through our Christmas lists much faster.

Next time, I vote for leaving our moms in the car or for sending them shopping. Straight and to the point is how I deliver my wish list. And, in case you're wondering what I want, it's a secret. One hint, though. Think "edible".

Merry Christmas, everydoggie!!

Love, Mary-Margaret