Foley Writes About How Pocket and River Ruined Christmas

 

Things at the Bridge can get a little timey-whimey, especially at Christmas time.  You may be reading this before it happened.  It is just like how things occur in Australia before they do here.  Think of Rainbow Bridge as being just east of the Great Barrier Reef.  It is the place where things happen first.

    River and Pocket pledged to wait up for Santa this year.  They didn’t do it to see the magical elf or to be the first in line for presents.  My sisters take their role as family protectors seriously, and they were not allowing anyone to enter the house if they suffered from the Horrible 19 virus.  River put her worries into words:  “With all the milk drinking and cookie eating, without handwashing, the fat bastard was bound to pick something up."

    To prepare for their night, River Song and Pocket watched Home Alone.  After my parents fell asleep, my sisters crawled out of bed and hopped onto the floor.  River had confiscated wire to help them capture the Big Man.  “We need to put it in front of the fireplace and trip him up as soon as he slides down the pipe.”

    “We don’t have a fireplace,” Pocket advised. 

 “Why didn’t someone tell me?” River lamented.  She put her paws over her eyes and thought hard.  Her head bobbed up.  “We could use the space heater in the front room.”

“How is that supposed to work? Pocket whispered.  “It’s a fake fire. There is no pipe for Santa to slide down.”

“It’s fire!” River insisted.  “Santa emerges from it every Christmas to save the world.”

Pocket did not have the heart to tell River that she had again confused Santa with Bruce Willis.  They put the wire in front of the space heater, and another is stretching across the front door where Santa traditionally enters houses without a chimney.”

Uh oh, Santa was infected by the Dreaded 19.

"That is what happens when you buy your COVID vaccine from the same place that you get Cialis,"  Santa complained.  "What am I going to do?  There are good children in the country who are counting on me. Their number dwindles each year, but there are enough to keep me busy.   I can’t disappoint them at the end of a disappointing year.”

Pocket ran into the bedroom, opened a drawer, and pulled out a Yorkie mask.  She gave it to Santa, excited that the man who would be delivering gifts to almost a dozen children would look like a Yorkie.  She advised Santa to take the precaution of cleaning all the presents before leaving them behind and not to "ho, ho, who”  so much since that causes the expulsion of droplets.  Santa disagreed that his new catchphrase should be a deep breath in and jazz hands, but he had to agree. For the kids.

After Pocket quizzed Santa on social distancing, she was confident he could finish his rounds without endangering anyone else. It was then that Pocket noticed River was missing.  She heard barking, growling, and then sleigh bells growing softer. Santa ran outside and saw his reindeer, spooked by River, flying high in the sky, abandoning Santa. 

"What did you do?" Santa asked.

"They were pooping in my pee spot!" River said like that justified her behavior.  "Santa, you need to be harder on them."

Santa sat down on the lawn.  “There won’t be a Christmas this year," he said dejectedly.  "First COVID and now my reindeers. I am afraid sometimes things don't work out."

Pocket could not let this be the year without a Christmas.  She made a rare good decision and contacted me. I didn't know how to save Christmas, but I knew someone who did.  Tomorrow I will tell you their story and how Christmas was rescued by dogs again.