Oh Christmas Tree

Last month I shared some memories of Thanksgiving adventures featuring stolen turkeys. Well, that's not the only time that pets get in the holiday mood. We've had some special Christmas experiences, too. I'll share a few. This could be long, so grab a cup of tea or glass of wine and be prepared to laugh.

The first Christmas mishap was back when I was living and working in Syracuse, long before I met Rob. I used to take a couple of days off at Christmas and go home to my Mom's house for the holiday. My brother still lived at home with Mom and my sister would also take some time off. That year I had my dog and my sister came home with her parrot. I don't remember the parrot's name but it was a truly stupid bird. All it did was squawk, very loudly and repeatedly. I babysat it for about a month while my sister was away and tried my best to teach it to swear but it could only squawk.

We had a big cut tree in the living room, nicely decorated. Some time on Christmas Eve afternoon the parrot escaped from it's cage and headed directly for the tree where it  perched among the ornaments. We all tried to grab the bird but it bit anyone who's hand got close to it. After several hours of trying to remove the bird from the tree, we gave up and figured it would come out overnight.

Next morning the parrot was still happily perched in the tree. My sister tried to lure it out with food but it refused to move. Then my brother tried to shove it out with a stick but the bird squawked and moved higher into the tree above our heads. It sat there all Christmas day and was still there the next day when I left to go home to my apartment. I don't know who got the bird out of the tree or how but I'm sure it required long work gloves and maybe a net.

A few years later it was Christmas again and my dog Libby and I went to my Mom's house. My brother was still living there and my sister came without the parrot. My sister and I had coordinated our giftwraps that year. I used polka dots and bright red ribbon on all my packages. My sister used shiny white paper with striped ribbon. She had attached candy canes to all her bows and everything looked very festive.

Even though we were all adults, my Mom still filled stockings for us. She put an orange in the toe, then filled the big knit stockings with little wrapped gifts, a roll of lifesavers and two Hershey bars each. We didn't have a fireplace so she set the filled stockings on the couch. We'd open them first while we waited for the coffee to brew.

We all went to bed and Libby settled on the rug next to my bed. My sister was always awake way too early on Christmas and that year she got us all up about 5AM. We staggered downstairs to the kitchen while Mom started the coffee, then we went into the living room to get our stockings. My sister let out a scream and we all ran to her. The stockings were on the floor, empty. There were  torn candy wrappers and pieces of orange peel all over the floor. The wrapped gifts were scattered around. I looked for Libby and she was nowhere to be seen. She had run back upstairs and was on my bed. My Mom gathered up the little gifts and I picked up soggy candy wrappers and orange peel. We managed to get my sister calmed down with a cup of coffee and her somewhat messy stocking.

On to opening our gifts. My sister was the self appointed gift distributor. She usually handed us the gifts from her first. She reached for one for my brother,  let out another scream and dropped the package. She touched another one and said some un-holiday like words. It seems that during her sugar binge, Libby had licked all the candy canes on my sister's packages. The tops of the packages were all covered with a sugary, dog drool slime. We had to stop the proceedings to calm my sister again and try to convince her to see the humor in the situation. I don't think we succeeded.

A few hours later we convinced Libby to come downstairs but my sister ignored her all day. They finally made up but after that we always made sure Libby was closed in the bedroom at night if there were snacks available. Libby did have a case of diarrhea for a couple days after her indiscretion but she thought it was worth it. We still can't mention that Christmas to my sister. She still does not see the humor.

Our next Christmas tale was after Rob and I were married. We were living in Maryland and had two dogs, Pylon and Bentley. Bentley, my first Portuguese Water Dog, was a packrat. He loved shiny objects and couldn't resist picking them up. He had a special place in the corner of the upstairs windowseat where he kept his treasures. One day Rob couldn't find his tietack. I told hm to check Bentley's treasure trove. Sure enough it was there along with an earring of mine and 72 cents in change that he'd picked up outside on walks.

At Christmas Bentley loved to sit and look at the tree. Rob and I started a tradition of going out for lunch on Christmas Eve. That year we had a lovely lunch at our favorite restaurant. When we got home the dogs greeted us at the door. I went to plug in the tree and saw a broken glass ornament on the floor. I assumed one of the dogs had brushed against it and broken it. No big deal. I started upstairs to change my clothes and saw pieces of broken glass on the stairs. Another broken ornament was halfway up the stairs. I realized what had happened and went to Bentley's special place where I found two unbroken glass ornaments. He  was collecting the shiny glass balls and while carrying them upstairs had broken a couple.  That's when I learned an important lesson. When you have dogs, you always put the sturdy, safer ornaments toward the bottom of the tree and the fragile one higher, out of reach.

Now we skip to Christmas 2002. We were living in Missouri and had five dogs, Lucy, Monty, Morgan, Tsar and Samba. At Christmas  Samba was nine months old and Tsar was thirteen months old.  Because they were so close in age they were great friends. Tsar had lots of neat ideas and Samba was his eager accomplice. That year after decorating the tree I found a thick lush gold and silver tinsel garland that I wrapped around the tree. It was sparkly and really caught the light.

After telling the dogs to be good Rob and I went out for our Christmas Eve lunch. We had a very nice time and when we got home were looking forward to a quiet evening with our sweet puppies. We drove into the garage and when I opened the door to the house no dogs were there to greet me. I knew I wasn't going to like what I found upstairs but I wasn't prepared for the disaster.

The tree was  lying on the floor halfway across the room from where it had been standing. Ornaments had fallen off and the pretty tinsel garland was stretched across the room and in pieces. Lucy was hiding in the laundry room, Monty was upstairs in the closet and the other three were lying quietly in the corner of the livingroom. None of them would look at me, but I knew exactly what had happened. Tsar and Samba had grabbed the sparkly garland and pulled. The tree had spun across the room until it bumped into something and fell over. How did I know who had done it? Easy. There were pieces of silver and gold tinsel in the fur around their faces. I'm sure it was great fun spinning that tree around. Actually it must have been pretty funny to see. Our quiet evening was spent retrimming the tree and picking pieces of tinsel out of the carpet and the dogs coats.

Finally, the year was 2005. It was Fudge's first Christmas. He was ten months old and full of himself. We had six dogs, Lucy, Monty, Morgan, Tsar, Samba and Fudge.With two older males in the house Fudge thought he had something to prove. I had caught him once lifting his leg on my desk and had purchased a bellyband to correct the behavior. To those unfamiliar with the item, a bellyband is just a strip of fabric that wraps around the dog and closes with velcro. It holds his penis against his belly and keeps him from marking inside the house. Fudge hated the thing.

Monty liked to spend his day snoozing beside the Christmas tree. I think he was guarding it from the rowdy youngsters. Fudge felt the need to impress Monty with his virility and lifted his leg on the tree branch closest to Monty's place. I caught him in the act and yelled. Then I put the dreaded bellyband on him and gave him a lecture on manners. Poor Fudge had to wear that hated piece of cloth for two days but the lesson was learned. He never tried marking in the house again.

So you see, Christmas with pets came be a real experience. They are always full of festive ideas to make the holiday cheery. Merry Christmas to all.