Friday, December 23, 2011

'Twas the Twelfth Day of Blogging

'Twas the night before Christmas Eve, when all through the house not a creature was stirring...except Anya. She was coughing and wheezing. The stockings were hung on the artwork by care, in hopes that they wouldn't look tacky or lame.

The Waters were nestled all snug in their bed, while visions of turkey and pie danced in their heads. And Nessa with her eye mask and Stephen sprawled out, had just settled their brains for a long, long, long winter's "nap" (if you can call sleeping that long a nap).

When out on the lawn their arose such a clatter, we sprang from our beds to see what was the matter. Away to the front room window we flew like a flash, tripped over the laundry and knocked over the tacked-up towels used as window treatments.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen slush gave the luster dullness of mush to objects below. When, what to our annoyed eyes should appear, but an animal getting into our trash, again.

With a dancing tail, so lively and quick, we knew in a moment it must be the stray dog. More stealthy than a ninja he came in the night, eating only our trash.

"G@& D@^^!&! Now, S&!%! MotherFather, I hate that stupid animal! He's always on the porch, next to the wall, then he runs away, never to be seen."

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky. So up to the house that dog ran, with a beard full of left-overs, and tissues too.

And then, in a twinkling, we heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of tiny feet. As we looked up and Anya barked, the neighbors cat ran across the stoop.

He was grey and white, from his head to his foot, and his fur was all tarnished with mud and with poop. A bundle of fuzz he had on his back, and he looked like a stray, just opening his mouth.

His eyes-how they twinkled! His claws, how sharp! His whiskers were like needles, his nose like a turd. He sat on the porch, just taunting our dog. And Anya just whined and danced and barked.

The stump in the front yard twitched and we saw, a small little squirrel that had jumped off the roof. He had a broad face and a round little belly that shook in the night, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old furball, and we laughed we saw him, in spit of ourselves! A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, and Anya went crazy, and we were filled with dread.

We spoke not a word, but mentally resigned, as Anya jumped at the window, and turned with a jerk. And pushing her face to the cold window glass, she gave a nod and the cat yowled back.

The squirrel sprang up a tree, and the cat ran away. Anya gave a yelp. And as she finally quieted, we crawled back to bed, wishing a Happy Christmas to all, and to all a quiet night!

Vanessa, Stephen, and Anya

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