Merry Christmas Y’all,
Can you believe it is that time of the year again?! This will be my third Christmas or twenty-first in human years. I have been pretty nice this year, not naughty, so my stocking should be full of good stuff. I can always use more chewies, because I tend to go through those things pretty quickly, and for some reason Mama will not let me bring my leftover horse hooves in the house. Go figure. I like the chewies that are shaped like little cigars with stuff rolled inside, FYI. And, a new plush toy would be nice since all the stuffing has come out of all of mine; I tend to be a little rough on those things, except for my stuffed tiger that I like to snooze with.
Truthfully though, I do not need much since I am a lucky pup. So if you have been thinking of a present for me, why not give it to some needy dog or cat, maybe even one in an animal shelter. Or even better adopt a pup or kitten to be part of your family. I bet that would make you feel extra special.
Ever since I came to the Clem Ranch to be head of security, cow whisperer and all round best pal, I have learned that for a few weeks at this special time of the year there us a lot of different stuff in this house. That first Christmas, Mr. P whispered in my ear that it was best to steer clear of the decorated tree and presents under it or risk getting sprayed with water. From the seriousness of his tone I believed him. He had lived here longer than me so I figured he knew the house rules regarding that tree a little better than I did. You know in the past two Christmases, I have never bothered that tree or the presents under it and have never seen the water bottle. He may have been pulling the wool over my eyes about that, but I decided it was better to be safe than have a wet face.
You know how I love to run and chase things, especially my kong toy when I can get someone to throw it for me. Well the other afternoon my folks were sitting in the swing enjoying the sunset, and I convinced Mama to get up and throw my toy for a while. She threw, I ran, got it and brought it back over and over and over until her arm gave out and I was pooped. I got a drink and laid down in the cool grass for a rest. Mr. P was in the swing watching all of this, and later that evening when we were curled up on the couch he commented that he did not understand why I found that soooooo much fun. He said that he would never be caught chasing something over and over for no good reason. Why would I want to waste so much energy? I guess that is one of the major differences between us. I like to play and he likes to observe. Of course, if he would participate in more activities he might not be such a plump, uh fluffy, fellow. Just saying.
And then something crossed my mind – what if cats helped work cattle like I do? I guess Mr. P would need a nickname like I have. I go by Wiggle Butt or The Mighty K or even Kodi The Cowdog, so he might be known as Tubby The Cowcat. You know somehow that just does not have the right ring to it. And I bet my girls out in the pasture would laugh themselves silly if he tried to get them to move along. But wouldn’t that be a sight to see? A big old cat hissing at a group of cows to move along or he would swat their faces. That makes me laugh to just picture it.
By the way have you seen the pictures posted on the internet called “Dog Shaming”? I am not too sure how I feel about those since I am a canine, an awfully cute one that is. Anyway, I kind of think that cats should be included in these shaming pictures. I know Mr. P should for what he did the other night. He came in the house for his evening meal and to hang out for a while, you know the usual. For some reason that night he seemed to acting kind of sneaky. Now he is really feeling good these days because you may remember me mentioning that his back legs had gotten kind of weakly and he was having trouble jumping up on things. Well he has rebounded to at least 90 percent of his old self. He has even done a little mouse patrol down in the feed room, and I know that because he left mouse remains at the back door two mornings last week. Mama does not really care for that practice, but she said at least fat, uh fluffy, boy was getting some exercise.
Well, on that night after he finished his supper, he came into the kitchen to snooze on the tile floor for a bit – he does that a lot – and then I missed him. I got to wondering where he was, so I headed through the den, down the hall to the master bedroom and lo and behold there he was curled up on my folk’s big bed sound asleep. I considered barking cause he is not supposed to be there, but I thought I would leave him well enough alone. He is my best bud after all. I went back to the den for some TV watching with my folks. Later when Mama went to get her bath, I heard her call out “MR. P” in the way I hear my name called when I have done something wrong. I rushed in there to see what was going on and maybe gloat a little for him getting in trouble. Well, Mama was not fussing at him because he was on the bed. She was angry because he had gone and peed on my bed! Can you believe that?! She had to put my soft, comfy bed in the washer and dryer to get it clean, and I had to sleep in a makeshift one for the night.
Now why do you think he did that? He has never done anything like that before. Was he showing me how he really feels about me because I thought we were good friends? I know I pounce on him from time to time and wake him up, but I am just playing. I guess even good buds have a falling out once in a while, but for the life of me I can not recall what I might have done to him lately to tick him off. Anyway, if I could take a picture I would fix a sign to hang around his neck that said, “Peed on best friend’s bed”, and post it to YouTube to shame him some. He probably would not care though because he is a cat after all.
Well, so long for now. Gotta go help move my girls off their winter pasture for the night. Never any rest for us working dogs.
I sure hope your Christmas will be a special time for you and yours, and do not forget the real reason we celebrate this season.
P.S. Sorry about the picture of me in the Santa hat. Some friends of my folks sent that, and of course a picture just had to be taken of me wearing it. From the look on my face I think you can tell that I was kind of emabarssed by the whole thing. Mr. P was hardly able to contain himself when he saw me in the getup. He laughed so hard he actually rolled over. The things I have to do to keep everyone happy. I hope this never gets posted to where my girls can see it. They would never let me live this down.