That’s me. ‘The Christmas Present’. I’m writing the blog today. You probably know me as “Christmas” but I hate that name. I am not a holiday. All the other dogs call me TC. I’m trying to train my pack of bipeds to do the same thing.
I stayed at this dog sleep-away camp. It’s HUGE. There are lots of toys and other dogs and games. They assign a biped to each ‘play group’ (What’s wrong with the word “pack”?). We have sprinklers to run through and our own swimming pool. We get to bring our own beds too. Nice. It’s not gender separated. I got to hang out with two Papillon sisters. How great is that? And the smells? KILLER.
I was having a perfectly wonderful holiday, then tall mom came and made me leave.
Tall mom talked out loud to bipeds I couldn’t smell…Brian, Steve, Thelma, Louise, and Harvey Fierstein…? No clue. She squeezed me to death and dripped water on my head.
Then she sat on my couch and fell asleep.
(BTW, tall mom you need to take a shower. Seriously.)
I sniffed. Aunt Daisy was here. My nose told me short mom was here now, but she smelled wrong. Like the stuff tall mom uses to clean my private tub. Ew. Hurt my nose. Short mom was asleep in the pack bed. I woke up tall mom and led her to the pack bed (took forever…have you noticed bipeds are rather dense?) and politely asked to get up. Once up, I went to find out what happened to short mom. Whoa. She’s PURPLE. I think she got into a pack fight. She has a lot of bite marks. Yow, that musta hurt. I licked them all.
I tried to remove all the burrs stuck to her, but that made her yelp, so I quit.
All they want to do is sleep. Pretty boring, but (yawn) maybe I am a little tired from camp. Someone has to…protect and serve….ZZzzzzzzzzzz