Most mornings, while Mommy is doing her hair, I sit in my chair and Pocket sits next to Daddy in the recliner and trembles because she hates when they leave.
Tuesday morning I was chilling and Pocket was trembling. I am much better at reading my humans’ vibes than Pocket is. I knew they weren’t going anywhere. The tree with the seizure causing lights was up, the stocking were hung, the little village crowded the shelves, there was only one thing left, the dreaded picture taking.
If you read the blogs about my foot injury you are aware that my parents do not respect knowledge. Without any medical training in the least they dictated how my paw would heal. This was going to be the Battle of the Bloody Paw all over again. But this time there would be photographic proof.
Mommy used the instruments of torture on her hair. Pocket went to hide under the table thinking she would be crated. I ran into the hidden corridors of my condo. Mommy was able to gather Pocket. Daddy picked up my condo and shook it until I came out. Then they walked into separate bedrooms.
Daddy thought we were taking pictures in the front bedroom, Mommy in the master bedroom. The entire thing just showed how unprofessional they were.. As always Daddy caved and they decided on the master bedroom where we were placed on the comforter that Mommy had said we would never be allowed to sit on.
They then placed a present, a weird stuffed thing that makes music, and a stocking behind us. They then started calling our names, whistling, tweeting, twerping, burping, trying to get us to look at them while they both took pictures, Daddy on his cell phone, which was silly, because there was no way Mommy was using one of his pictures.
Mommy says she can never get a good picture of Pocket and I together. She doesn’t know why. I am going to let you in on a secret. The reason is I sit next to Pocket and while the pictures are being taken I whisper “you know those cameras are the number one cause of brain cancer in dogs.” I also told her that the cameras catch your soul so don’t look right into it. Plus I kept telling her how mad Mommy would be if she peed on the new comforter. By the time I was done she was a twitching mess who couldn’t look into the camera. Hey, I may have claimed I was a good dog but never a good sister.
After an hour and a half, 1,000 pictures, my parents emitting every sound possible by the human mouth, Mommy and Daddy decided to take separate pictures of us, and those on our Christmas Card list should be getting those cards. But if we run out we are going to send regular non picture cards with a picture of Pocket and I together: her trembling, me not.
Mommy wanted to take over here and say how hard it was to make cards at CVS, how the machine wasn’t working right, how there was no one there to help, how it took her and the woman next to her almost two hours to get them done, but frankly, I find that story boring, so you won’t be seeing it on this blog.
Now I have to stand over Mommy and make sure she sends out all my cards. The pressure may be getting to her. Today Pocket and I got seven cards today to their one. But they will all get out, unless I want attention from her and make her put down the pen.
Anywho, here are a couple of outtake pictures of our Christmas card session. Love getting all the cards from you all. I hope ours live up. A Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.