A Dog’s Christmas Story: One Confusing Day!
My family has gone mad. I mind my own business, resting on the carpet. I’m stretching my four legs, and they all just ignore me. Usually, someone would reach down to pet me but not today. Today they’re all just tripping over me, constantly ripping open the doors. Running in and out, shouting: “Move! Out of the way, Maxi!”
Maxi, that’s me. I wonder if one of them could be ill? I am really worried about them. There’s another one bolting through the front door and moving through the hallway. He’s kicking the living room door open. Oh, it’s the tall one they call Daddy. What’s that? He’s carrying something. A tree? Does he want to make a fire? No, I don’t think so. My family has central heating. That tree must be for me, so I don’t have to go out in the cold. That is so sweet! A tree just for me. I have to try it out right away! I am excitedly jumping up and running over to my new tree. But just as I lift my leg, daddy is barking at me. “Don’t! That’s not for you!” How rude! My tail tugged between my legs; I crawl under the sofa.
I wonder what he’s doing with that thing in the living room. Curiously, I peek out from under the sofa, but watch out! Daddy is coming and wham! He trips over me again. I yelp out loudly, so he pets me to apologize. But no, he just barks at me again. Move! Get out of the way! He yanks the bathroom door open. He always wants me to go there when I am in his way. But I don’t want to. The tiles are too cold, but it’s no use, I have to. Unpleasant guy, I think, while I obey.
A Dog’s Christmas Story
Consigned to my bathroom prison, I am lying down. I perk up my ears to hear what’s happening. I hear rumbling and hammering from the kid’s rooms. It smells really great now—Pheasant! That smell must be coming from the kitchen. I saw the pheasant earlier. Mommy brought it in. A gigantic bird without any feathers. That’s not fair. I am not allowed to chase birds. I am strictly forbidden. And if I try, they leash me. And those guys? They just get themselves a huge bird, and no one leashes them.
Wham! The door bursts open. I barely manage to get out of the way. The little one rushes into the bathroom to wash his hands. I wonder if he’s here to play with me. I poke his knee with my nose, but he mumbles. Sorry, I don’t have time Maxi. I need to finish up so I can clean the boots. That’s cuckoo! I have to figure out what’s going on here. We got a tree in the living room and a huge bird in the kitchen. Cookie scent in the air. Everyone’s running around like mad and whispering to each other. And now the little one wants to clean his boots? I am almost nine months old now, and I have never seen anything like this.
Where are the candles, mommy is asking? What do we need candles for? We don’t have a power outage. Well, maybe the blackout is coming. They must be planning for a long one because daddy is hauling four boxes full of candles into the living room.
A Dog’s Christmas Story
Then I hear mommy say: We’ve got to hurry! The family will be here soon.
I understand … it’s a family gathering because of the power outage—pack meeting! Yeah! But why is daddy cutting the tree in the living room? I’ve never seen him do something like that before the family comes over. He is probably cutting the tree into smaller pieces so all pack members can get a piece in each paw … I forgot, they call their’s hands.
Suddenly, he’s looking at his watch. Terrified he shouts: That late already! And the tree is still not up. I don’t get it. Why does the tree have to be up in the living room at a specific time? But it gets better. Once daddy is done putting it up, they don’t just let it be. Now they are also hanging colored balls up. And while they are at that, Sam asks: “When do we light it up?”
Light it up? That can’t be true! Burning a tree in the living room? That’s arson. Now I am totally confused. Usually, they are quite normal, reasonable people but today, they got some screws loose. It’s got to be a mental disorder and probably highly contagious.
Mommy just said to the kids: Go change and brush the dog. I don’t like the brush; it always pulls my fur.
A Dog’s Christmas Story
Hold on a second. I think I get it now. They are changing to go for a walk, and I get to come along. That’s why they want to brush me.
But I thought the family was coming over. Why are we going on a walk, then? We probably don’t have enough space for the entire pack, so we have to make room. And we’ll probably take the tree with us as a spare, as they cut down all my other trees on the street. And they must have decorated it to make me happy. That’s so nice of them. Who cares that they might be arsonists?
But why, when, and where do they want to light it up? I don’t get it. Humans are hard to understand. Nothing they do makes any sense.
I need a break. All that worrying is making me tired. I decided to lie down next to the kitchen door where the scent was most potent, especially the broiling pheasant … Hmmm, yummy. But there is another scent in the air; something smells irresistibly tasty. I gaze over to the pantry, and the door is open; how considerate!
I silently move over, sneak in, and what do I see? An unbelievably stunning sausage is staring back at me, invitingly, I might add. This must be love, and I am falling head over heels. I snag it and hide under the sofa, my favorite spot for such occasions. While enjoying my delicious treat, I watch daddy hanging more balls on the tree he plans to light up later. And mommy is praising him. It doesn’t make any sense, but I don’t care any longer. I am in heaven.
A Dog’s Christmas Story
Now that I am done with my sausage, I better go for a walk; it’s good for digestion. Hopefully, they have forgotten about the brushing by now.
Where did you come from? I hear daddy ask as he’s watching me crawl out from under the sofa. Silly question, is something wrong with his eyes?
I am walking to the front door, stop, stand and bark. I taught them to let me out when I do that. They’re very trainable. The little one, Peter, opens the door, and I am out. It’s already dark, and I can see candlelight through the windows of many houses on our street. It looks like the blackout has begun.
Suddenly, I notice a man coming towards the house. Who the heck is this? He is wearing a red hood covering his head and a red coat. His face is covered with a thick, white beard, and he is carrying a huge sack on his back. This looks very suspicious. I better follow him. We can’t have that. I am a guard dog, after all. I am running back over to our house to block his way. This means no further, or I’ll bite you—let’s hope for him he understands that I mean business.
Ok, I’ll warn him. I growl, but he must be hard of hearing—just like the mailman. As he is reaching for the doorknob, I move in and bite his leg. Ah, see. Now he understands it, finally. He yelps, lets go of the doorknob and runs down the driveway. I am very proud of myself. I think he learned his lesson, and he better not come back. No one gets past me.
A Dog’s Christmas Story
Oh, look, the family is here now. I should probably follow them inside. A pack must stick together. Looking around, I think the pack is complete, but someone must still be missing. I wonder who? But all the kids are taking turns running to the door, looking out and asking: “When is … coming?” Someone is coming, but I have never heard that name. It sounds like sand and causes or something; no idea what that means or who that could be.
Mommy is asking: Where is Maxi’s sausage? … So it was my sausage, good to know! It’s in my tummy where it belongs. I can’t find it I hear from the Kitchen, but I bought a second one just in case, so I am going to put that under the tree. This is awesome; another one! Mommy is nice to me. I don’t know why they want to put it under the tree. Normally they put the food in my bowl.
Suddenly, I hear a knock at the patio door. I better check it out. Look who we’ve got here! The suspicious beard-man with the sack on the back. Daddy jumps up from his seat to open the door; how careless. Barking loudly, I charge the bearded man, but daddy calls me off. That’s not fair. Finally, I get a chance to show them what I can do, and then they don’t let me. The family pack even seems to like that guy. They’re all smiles and laughs and mommy says: Finally!
A Dog’s Christmas Story
The strangeling with the puffy beard responds: I was here earlier, but he didn’t let me in—pointing at me. I bark proudly. Finally, they know how reliable I am. But Peter says: Maxi, this is … and there it is again, this strange word with sand and cause. Now daddy says: Let’s light up the tree. Terrified I hide under the sofa—they are arsonists after all—unbelievable … but nothing happens. No bang, no smoke, and no one is calling 911. And now they are howling … ah, I remember, they call that singing.
Curiously, I sneak a peek, and what do I see? The tree is indeed burning, but it doesn’t look dangerous. They are all standing peacefully around the tree with strange sparkles in their eyes. I howl to get their attention, and mommy says: All this commotion must be very confusing for Maxi. This is his first Christmas.
Yes, it is! It’s about time someone takes notice; a very confusing day.
A Dog’s Christmas Story
I hope you enjoyed A Dog’s Christmas Story. This story is based on a German Christmas tale called One Confusing Day. It was translated by Ralf Weber.
Image Credit: Free Download: Top 30 Christmas Animal Wallpaper
