Christmas Tails

I initially thought it was a joke.

Out of my truck’s radio in Houston came a community call to pet owner’s to come on down and have your animal’s picture taken with Santa.

In a country replete with acts of cultural excess I reacted as if we had finally reached the lowest of lows. Who would do such a dumb thing?

That was until my brother called from New York and informed me that he and Mom were taking Frankie - a canine guest who came to visit and who was so much fun that he wasn’t allowed to leave - to do exactly that: See Santa.

[If this is an affliction strewn across the country then how did it spread? Texans and New Yorkers don’t drink the same water. It’s much better in Texas.]

Now by all accounts Frankie is smart. He’s not your average mutt. [See Hannah’s vintage alittlecommonsense article for his pedigree: What A Frankie Life ]

But even the most intelligent animals, could they relate to jolly old St. Nick?

The Yankee branch of our family was about to find out.

Were there any other kinds of pets invited to this bash and who was throwing it?

As the invitation from the Hampton’s Homeless Animal Shelter* read, “…..scales, tails, paws or claws are all welcome.” Did they really mean to write “all”?

Can you imagine a beer-bellied guy in a red suit and hat, with a long white cotton beard wrestling with a viper that some boy chucked in his lap? I’d drive a long-way to see that in person. YouTube immortality anyone?

But the Shelter put the come-one-come-all in print in the local paper so they must be serious, right?

Our on-the-scene alittlecommonsense correspondent - brother Kevin - reported that there were about fifteen pets and their owners, and despite the open nature of the casting call all except one was a dog. [Frankie was the most diminutive of the lot, by the way. He’s used to that. That’s him in the picture with Santa.]

The sole exception was a woman with an infant in a baby carriage, which left us to ponder: Would the young child qualify as the scales, the tails, the paws or the claws?

It takes all kinds.

And that must include the man playing Santa.

Since the home is a volunteer, non-profit operation, it could be that the starring role in this holiday drama fell to him by default. I mean, could you really expect them to hire someone to do this?

By the look on his face - at least what you can see of it through the suit - he doesn’t appear to be a particularly eager participant. What caused that one can only guess. Maybe it was the friendly warning my brother gave him as he placed Frankie on Santa’s thighs: “Be careful, he might nip your face.”

Tact runs in the family.

That caution had to have snowballed Santa’s thoughts: He remembered he signed a release of liability.

You could almost feel his head throbbing with: “OH MY GOD is my life insurance paid up? I’ve got a wife and family.”

To make matters worse he undoubtedly looked down the waiting line of dogs and spied a menacing 150-pound Doberman just four places away. Imagine THEN what was flashing through his mind?

Nice doggie.

Sure.

And this was a man who was supposed to find the courage to bring forth, “HO HO HO MERRY CHRISTMAS!”

Our stringer wasn’t able to get Frankie to come clean and tell him what it was he wanted from Santa for Christmas.

The big red man’s wish for himself, however, was probably, “GET ME OUTTA HERE!”

[*EdNote1: We changed the name of the shelter to protect the irreverent.]

[EdNote2: For this event there was a donation of $5.00 which went to a good cause. A formal picture was taken and included with the donation, but it was too dark to be of use. Luckily our quick-thinking man-of-the-day brought his camera and took his own pictures, including the one that accompanies this article.]

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