The Ruby Rose Report: The Dreaded Christmas Card Picture Day

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All dogs know, when the weather turns cold, and the leaves fly south for the winter, that it is Christmas time. Foley has told me about Christmases past, when the house was filled with love, and tiny kids, who believe in Santa, play excitedly with their new toys.

Kids make the holiday special, and humans experience the three stages of Christmas: When you are a little on on Christmas, when you have little ones at Christmas, and when you become grandparents to them. When that time passes, you are like someone who forgot their Taylor Swift tickets, and are left in the parking lot, still able to hear the music, and the crowds, but still on the outside.

So, when you don’t have kids to make Christmas special, parents, lucky enough to have pets, make the holiday about them, whether they want it or not.

And that means the most stressful day of the year is upon us: Christmas Card Day.

Normally, I love posing for pictures. My parents tell me Pocket and I were the easiest dogs to take pictures of: They just held the camera up to us and snapped. We are never asked to pose; we are just us.

But the Christmas card photo often involves props, and clothes. I know Foley loved dressing up but he was fierce enough to take the kidding. I don’t dare. I don’t want to be on a dog shaming site in drag.

My outfit was red pajamas. They had arms and legs. I had never worn clothing on my legs, and I had trouble walking. When my front paws were put in the outfit was a little snug. The photographer should have known to tell a girl she’s got a shoot in the morning, so she forgoes breakfast.

My Dad wrestled the outfit on to me with the intensity a virgin in his Junior year at university wrestles off his willing partner’s clothes.

Then I was put in a chair next to the blasted tree (“Oh blasted tree, oh blasted tree, I should like to pee under you. Next the photographer put an empty mug and a plate of cookies next to me and told Junior virgin who wasn’t getting any tonight.

The photographer kept snapping pictures, and I kept looking away, a beautiful dance between primitive dog and smart phone, of course, the Wookie put up a fight, causing the photographer to take dozens of photos. Sadly, there were some good ones. It is almost impossible to make this face look bad for a ling time.

I know my parents will send the card out, but what about my cards? Shouldn’t I have an equally humiliating picture of them. That night I got the phone and took this picture of them.

So, my dog and cat friends, watch your I—Paws, my card is on the way.

 

Merry Christmas.