A Christmas story.

Growing up in Great Falls Montana, I was one of those lucky children who got to be part of the best Christmas tradition ever. Our family was a good, Catholic family all living within a few city blocks from each other and always ready to come together for the holidays. Now even though not every one got along during the rest of the year, Christmas was special. My great-grandmother was the matriarch of our family and what she said was the law. This meant everyone was to attend, no excuses, and everyone was to be dressed for the occasion. This meant beautiful dresses for the ladies, ties and dinner jackets for the men and holiday cheer only. Any bad attitudes in attendance would hear about it from my Great-Grandmother and well, let’s just say no one wanted that. Her house was very small; 2 bedrooms, a kitchen filled with delft plates and cups, a living room, dining room and a basement with a small kitchen and a bathroom that always smelled like rose water. She raised 5 children in that house and for some reason despite the size on a normal day, the house seem to expand on Christmas. Now, for the reader I need you to soften your focus like in the movies from the fifties when the glow from the lights filled the room, where handsomely dressed people are drinking hot toddies and spirits and children are playing in every corner waiting for Santa’s arrival. There was more food then anyone could ever eat and the decorations were all glitter and grace, silver angels adorned the tree and the tinsel hung like ribbons of gold from the fresh cut bows. My grandmother and great-grandmother, even on in years, had the most amazing dresses. My grandmother had the smallest waist and I remember thinking even as a very young girl that she was so beautiful. Her and her sisters were like something out of Hollywood. My great uncle was always walking around, filming movies and making sure to capture everyone in techni-color. There would be laughter and the building of anticipation for the guest of honor. First came the bells, faint at first so you had to listen, then louder and a thump on the roof, then Santa would ring the door bell. He would come in with such a presence that every child, young and old, were captivated by him and more importantly, what treasure awaited for you from within the velvet bag he carried. We all would line up and take turns to tell him what was our heart’s desire and then magically it would be the very gift he had for you in the bag. He would depart making sure to say, “now go to sleep, no peeking, HO HO HO!!!” and off he would go, jingling all the way.

While the children were all happily playing with new toys and treasures, the adults would be laughing and chatting, swaying to Old-Blue Eyes rendition of “White Christmas” and all was right in the world. The men would eventually make their way down to the basement and smoke cigars and the ladies would begin to gossip and tidy-up the kitchen. The children would start to rub weary eyes and the magic of the holidays would wind down. We would all wish our many blessings to each other and head home to nestle children into beds. It was after such a night that I had the most magical moment ever. In fact, in my 36 years, I can not recall a more magical Christmas night.

This most magical Christmas was the Christmas night when my mother and I did my brother’s paper route still dressed in our holiday finest. It was 1:00 in the morning and here we were in our dresses and big snow boots, hats and gloves. There were no cars on the roads, only blankets of perfect snow, glistening in the light from the street lamps. Our dog Sophie, a cock-a-poo, trailing behind us collecting ice in her whiskers, transforming her from a black lap-dog to a some mythical creature in an instant, as we delivered the Christmas paper to all of our neighbors. I remember my mom and I laughing at the quiet of that night when the snow seemed to whisper under our feet, while the flakes of snow fell gently from the sky. We ran and danced in the snow and sang Christmas songs softly into the night. The decorations on the houses in our neighborhood seemed to sparkle like gemstones, emeralds and rubies and sapphires abounding. I felt like I was on the set of some movie and time had stood still as we walked through the snow. I remember how my mother looked in the lamp light with her dark, chestnut hair and and her long, velvet car-coat. She was the same age then as I am now and she was a stunner. I remember growing up and hearing stories about her when she was young, told to me by her dad, my granddad- how she rode motorcycles and raced powder-puff race cars, how she was a crack shot with a rifle and how men fought over her, my dad included. I remember thinking how could this graceful women do all those things and still seem like such a lady, but on that night I could see anything was possible. Time had stood still and the grace of the night had shone its light and love on my little piece of the world.

Being in Hawaii, away from all my family for the holidays seems strange to me. Stranger still is the sunny and 80-degrees, no snow in- sight, my mind has yet to wrap around the idea that yes, it is really December. I called my mom the other day to say how strange it is to have no snow this time of the year. Although it is many years later and we are gearing up for the holidays thousands of miles apart, my mom and I still recall this night with one of us saying, “remember that night” and it will transport us back to a time, long ago, to a Christmas like no other. We will laugh as we talk about the icicles on the dog and how silly it was to be out in our dresses, how beautiful everyone looked at Grandmother’s and how many years it has been since she left us. As happens, many of the players of that holiday have passed on and, with it, the loss of an era, yet the memories of this tradition is etched so deeply on our hearts that the mere thought brings tears to my eyes, softening the focus once again on the memories from so long ago. Those yester-year thoughts of Christmas, of families together, where sleigh bells ring, where the snow glistens, where we are happy, as we go walking in a winter wonderland..... I can not recall what gifts I received that year, but I can recall every sound, smell, taste and feeling of that magical night and that is the greatest gift of all.

T'was a month before Christmas....

I was so excited by the lack of craziness around the Hospital and the house that I had nearly forgotten I had that four-legged brother of mine. Alas, I got a firm reminder and almost an electric one this weekend as my family set up the holiday decor around the Hospital. As usual, I was up front, minding my own business, chewing on the HUGE Kong Mom slipped me when my brother wasn’t looking. Mom and Dad were busy hanging lights and setting up the tree. My sister was helping my mom hang the ornaments and the puppy was in the back enjoying the sun. Mom had just put the finishing touches on the lobby and hung all of the stockings with our staff’s names on them when my human sister let the puppy in.

I heard him come through the door about the same time the whirlwind of a dog hit the tree. Now, this tree swivels making it easy to decorate and well, apparently, also to do the hula when hit by a MACK Rome. As the tree spun around, the ornaments went flying in all directions. It was like a scene from one of those Hollywood ninja movies where suddenly the air is filled with throwing stars, only in the movies, they are thrown with purpose and you know where they are going. This was more of a duck and take cover operation. The silver balls all bouncing and crashing across the floor, the gold snowflakes spinning wildly in every direction and in the middle of it all, the catalyst for this calamity getting tangled in the tree skirt. He dashed around to where I arose from the clatter of objects being hurled in my direction. He crouched down under me as if I were going to be his canine shield and protect him. Not gonna happen pup, I thought, and under the desk I went. I barely realized my mom and sister were there until they came skating around the corner on a snowflake and a prayer. The wake of destruction was wide-reaching. My sister said, “Rome is a crazy dog, Mom.” Mom, looking at the lobby and the veritable waste land that Rome had created, was merely silent. What took all morning to create had taken my brother less then 15 seconds to destroy.

My dad rushed in, hearing the commotion and seeing the devastation, turned and walked away quickly from the scene taking my sister with him. My mom was left standing there holding the tree and trying to figure out which end of this adventure was up. Dad returned and took “Senior Destruction” to the back and put him in his kennel. Mom started to clean up the carnage and right the world of holiday happiness once again. I crawled out from under the desk and came out to survey the damage. The whole bottom of the tree was empty and all the snowflakes were off the tree and strewn around the lobby. The silver and glittery balls were everywhere but near the tree and the tree-topper was now a hat for the soda cooler nearby. The tree skirt blanketed the scale a good 10-feet from the tree and the red flowers that had been dislodged from the tree were beautifying the lobby in what one can only describe as an expressionist masterpiece without a master to weld them.

I walked up to my mom as she began to reassemble the tree and nudged her hand. She looked down at me at me and said, “Pike, your brother is a wreaking ball.” I pushed a silver ball with my nose as if to say “good thing everything on the tree is plastic, right Mom?” Mom seemed to get my drift. She turned to me and said, “well Pike, plastic makes it possible.” She shrugged her shoulders, then the lights on the tree flickered and then crackled and then the lights went out, as if to punctuate the trees final curtain call.

I am happy to report the lobby has been restored and looks beautiful. Rome has figured out how to give the tree a wide berth and I have decided what I am getting my brother for the holidays.... a short leash! -RUFF!!!!

iDOG

iDOG, iCAT What are they talking about? Am I being replaced? With the holidays just around the corner, the buzz at my house is what Santa is bringing everyone. I personally want a bone the size of Rome but Mom says I am not allowed to chew on him (ROME). My thought was he is free- no shopping required. I was saving the planet, reduce, reuse, re-cycle. Seriously though, what is an iDOG and why do they want one? There are 2 dogs and 2 cats in our family. Do we really need another mouth to feed? My human brother is excited because it dances, plays his music and it lights up. I can do that... let’s see, where did I see those twinkle lights? Now I just need my sister’s little music thing, and turn, and chase the tail, and look- I am an iDOG. Hahahahahahaha!!!!!!! My family thinks my attempt is funny but it only seems to fuel the need for them to have an iPET of some kind. I decided it was best to do some research on the subject and I am horrified that this iANIMAL thing is not limited to just the dogs and cats. They make an iTurtle for Pete’s Sake! It is a good thing Noah is not around to see this or his whole ark thing would just end up in the odd news on Yahoo. Who needs animals in pairs with the iPET revolution. Remember the days when you were excited about the puppy under the tree with the big red bow? Now, those days are long gone. A couple of double AA batteries and your family members are all set for this new pet phase. I read people used to have pet rocks. Every generation has some pet replacement it seems. One point for the iPET at least is that it is interactive. A rock people? Man, times

must have been really tough back then....a rock, WOW!!!!

I have a few questions for the iPET generation. Let’s see, where to start?

Can it lower your blood pressure? Does it comfort you when you are sad? Does it keep your seat warm? Does it fetch and make you laugh? Does it keep you in shape by chasing after it? I think not! I wonder if my dad will need to go to a class on how to fix the iPET? Will that count towards his Continuing Education credits? For $39.95, you can have your very own, plastic, light up, throw away pet, or you could invest in a real pet that will give you a good 10 years or more. Heck, if you get a turtle, you may have to put him in your will for your grandkids to care for. iDOG, iCAT, really? Well, if Santa decided we need an iPET at our house this holiday season, I may have to give my family an iPIKE reminder... and no one wants that. Step away from the iPET- keep it real people. -RUFF!!!!

Rome 101.2

ROMEITIS: NOUN. An acute case of Rome the puppy taking over your life. Eating your food and generally speaking consuming the world in which you live. A swelling of your neck, legs, face, tail, and anything else that Rome can get his mouth around and chew on. A smell that causes your nostrils to become swollen and inflamed; it smells like wet dog, dirt, smelly socks and rotten eggs and it comes in a 40 pound bottle called Rome dele pue and can be purchased at your local shelter for around 80 dollars.

It goes with out saying if I could understand the syllabus, and try and see what I am really being asked to do it may not be that hard. I am trying to understand the “subject matter” but honestly I can’t make heads or tails. I am wondering if my family meant to sign up for the honors class or the AP version that we have landed in. All I can say is, I hope I get a college credit for this!

I over heard my dad saying after a very long session “Remember when we thought Pike 101 was a lot of work?” (first thought: me, are you joking?). Then mom said, “Rome

101.2 is like a scene from Nightmare on Elm Street and a Brittany Spears song on puree: 1,2, Rome is coming for you, 3,4 run for the door, 5,6,7,8. . . 9, 10 oops he did it again.”

Just tonight as we sat together watching a movie about how to tame your dragon, I was wondering how this applied to ROME. Then he took out dads knee, laid waste to my sister as she came down the stairs and it all became clear. He met dad at his kennel for office hours and the whole family went out for recess.

The crazy thing is, I don’t think it needs to be this hard. He is a clever chap and a fast teacher so he definitely has more then 2 squirrels running around in the space between his ears. He is a presence when he wants to be and when he showers after gym class he is not too bad to have around. Then he en-rolls in something gross and I come back to reality and remember who my lab partner really is! Secretly, I keep hoping for the Cliff Notes so I can just take the final and don’t have to come to class everyday and sit through the agony. Mom can you pass the Rimadyl? My whole body aches!

I wish I could speak dog but honestly it is a lost language to me since I have spell check and an editor. I think someone should tell him his class is too much for beginners and only after taking all of the pre-recs should anyone attempt to take Rome 101.2. I would tell Rome; go slowly some of us have a hard time keeping up! There should be a lesson on how to smell Poodles and that cute Mastiff that was sitting on the counter the other day. We need more time spent learning about weave poles, agility classes and lessons on the teeter-totter than on how to take out your entire family in one flight of stairs! This is an advanced class and we clearly are beginners.

the Collies, the

I did figure out what to do for extra credit to bring up my grade. I am going to order him a shirt that says if you are close enough to read this, run for your life I will spontaneously combust in 1,2 RUFF!!!

I hope to make it through his first year. If it is this hard I can’t imagine what the second year will be like! I may need a tutor, and some really strong water to get through it. I have my family and we can study the subject together. At the very least one of us can always be ready to yell.... INCOMING! Class dismissed. ~Ruff!

KONG Envy

Well, it has come to my attention that I may be getting muscled-out by my younger and, according to my family, smarter brother. Now I know that my mom really loves me best, I am, after all, the great protector of our family, however Rome seems to get all kinds of lavish toys everyday.

I remember when I would get a new rope or chew toy about every 2 months which, in dog years, is an eternity, just for the record. That stupid puppy gets new toys all the time. I think it is because he is so cute and sweet, but I overheard Mom saying she should have named him Houdini and that she has never seen a dog so smart. Now, of course she wasn't actually comparing him to me. After all, how many dogs do you know that type their own column for the paper each week? Clearly when it comes to brains and braun, if we are really taking stock, I am all that and a bag of kibble. Back to the toys however, to keep Mr. Rome out of trouble when he is bored my Mom continues to feed his gluttony with more toys. Squeaky balls-he has 3 now. I think Mom forgot she already bought him the other 2. She bought him a new raccoon because apparently the one I chewed in half and tore the legs off wasn't good enough for him. What ever happened to hand me downs? I mean really, there were several parts that had only been slightly chewed. She bought him a new rope because she was worried about linear foreign bodies from all the strands I unraveled as I drug him across the living room last night on his back. If he is so smart, why didn't he let go? That's the question she should be asking not, "Pike, why did you destroy this rope?" Um... well let's see, 40-pounds of dog back and forth across the rug, the tile, the doorsill 10 times will do that to a rope. I know she is smarter then this, but still she asks.

Which brings me to a question for her, "Mom, why is it that he has the bigger treat kong?" I know you know what I am talking about and I have to say I am very disappointed in you. He has the a huge Kong and I just have the original standard-issue one. Now I understand sometime you get what you get and you don't pitch a fit, but I WANT THE BIG KONG!!!! I am the oldest and I was here first and I..i....Never mind, I'll just wait until he is busy being smart and moving the soda fridge out of the the way so he can escape and run free around the lobby and then, then I will take it. Yep, that is exactly what I will do. Now who's the smart one. Rome may be younger and sweeter but, at the end of the day, its called Pike's Corner, not Rome's.