Since you asked, Christmas version:
I thought I would share this warm holiday story.
Of our two yellow Labrador dogs Kasey and Wrigley, our dog Wrigley is a sweet dog, he is a cute hound doggy-looking Labrador, he is an affectionate dog, he just doesn’t have a whole lot of sense. Kasey, on the other hand, has a lot of sense but most of it is directed, ala Wrigley with what little sense he has, at how and when she is going to eat.
Kasey is a much more observant dog than Wrigley, hence one of her many nicknames: Inspector Kasey. Nothing makes it into our house without Inspector Kasey giving it the once over with her snout. Wrigley? Not so much. For his third Christmas in-a-row, Wrigley has not even bothered to notice that we suddenly have a tree in the middle of the living room. His line of thinking being something like; “What does that stupid tree have to do with my getting fed?”
But on Christmas Eve, with the dulcet tones of Nat King Cole singing “Chestnuts Roasting On an Open Fire” and our lovely home resplendent with a fire roaring in the hearth, my daughter, Ann Caroline, was playing with the dogs as I was trying to watch something important on TV. I don’t remember what I was watching, I just know it was very important. So I directed her to take the dogs into the living room. Bad move.
They were not in the living room five seconds, when, low and behold, Wrigley must have suddenly noticed the Christmas tree. How do I know that Wrigley discovered the tree? I heard Ann Caroline yelling in her sternest 7-year-old voice: “No, Wrigahwee, no!” (A.C. still has trouble pronouncing her L’s. She loves to clarify with the word Actually, pronounced: Act-shoe-ah-wee)
This cry of “No Wrigahwee, no!” hurtled me into the living room as if shot out of a canon, where I was able to observe the end of Wrigley, as pretty as you please, blissfully peeing on the tree. More specifically, Wrigley was peeing on the tree, the fancy Christmas tree skirt as well as two out of the ten presents underneath.
In his defense, Wrigley maintains that he was just trying to water the tree to keep it fresh, but nobody here is buying that alibi. To Wrigley’s credit, however, most people, when they see something they aren’t familiar with and or are not happy about, only say; “Piss on it.”
Wrigley is a dog of action.
I thought I would share this warm holiday story.
Of our two yellow Labrador dogs Kasey and Wrigley, our dog Wrigley is a sweet dog, he is a cute hound doggy-looking Labrador, he is an affectionate dog, he just doesn’t have a whole lot of sense. Kasey, on the other hand, has a lot of sense but most of it is directed, ala Wrigley with what little sense he has, at how and when she is going to eat.
Kasey is a much more observant dog than Wrigley, hence one of her many nicknames: Inspector Kasey. Nothing makes it into our house without Inspector Kasey giving it the once over with her snout. Wrigley? Not so much. For his third Christmas in-a-row, Wrigley has not even bothered to notice that we suddenly have a tree in the middle of the living room. His line of thinking being something like; “What does that stupid tree have to do with my getting fed?”
But on Christmas Eve, with the dulcet tones of Nat King Cole singing “Chestnuts Roasting On an Open Fire” and our lovely home resplendent with a fire roaring in the hearth, my daughter, Ann Caroline, was playing with the dogs as I was trying to watch something important on TV. I don’t remember what I was watching, I just know it was very important. So I directed her to take the dogs into the living room. Bad move.
They were not in the living room five seconds, when, low and behold, Wrigley must have suddenly noticed the Christmas tree. How do I know that Wrigley discovered the tree? I heard Ann Caroline yelling in her sternest 7-year-old voice: “No, Wrigahwee, no!” (A.C. still has trouble pronouncing her L’s. She loves to clarify with the word Actually, pronounced: Act-shoe-ah-wee)
This cry of “No Wrigahwee, no!” hurtled me into the living room as if shot out of a canon, where I was able to observe the end of Wrigley, as pretty as you please, blissfully peeing on the tree. More specifically, Wrigley was peeing on the tree, the fancy Christmas tree skirt as well as two out of the ten presents underneath.
In his defense, Wrigley maintains that he was just trying to water the tree to keep it fresh, but nobody here is buying that alibi. To Wrigley’s credit, however, most people, when they see something they aren’t familiar with and or are not happy about, only say; “Piss on it.”
Wrigley is a dog of action.
posted by Alex at
2:41 PM
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