Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

 

I've been a good doggy mom all year. I've fed, cleaned and cuddled my dogs on demand, visited the Vet's office more than my own doctor, spend more on their shampoos and conditioners than I do for myself, and most of the time they are groomed better than I am. I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my a black marker pen on the back of a dog food receipt in the laundry room between cycles of dog bedding, and who knows when I'll find any more free time in the near future with puppies coming and dog shows on the he horizon.

 

Here are my Christmas wishes:

 

I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache (in any color, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don't hurt or flap in the breeze; but are strong enough to put my struggling dog into the tub for a bath.

 

I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere, from eating dog show food, oh, and at least three show outfits and some jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools.

 

If you're hauling big ticket items this year I'd like nose-print resistant windows, floors that clean themselves, and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I can hide to eat my own snacks without having to share with a pack of barking maniacs.

 

On the practical side, I could use a battery operated dog that is always stacked perfectly and moves to perfection on my command to boost my showing confidence, along with at least two bitches who don't bump each other to start a fight.

 

I could also use a recording of The Dog Whisperer chanting "Don't pee in the living room" and "Get off of her, she is not in heat" because my voice seems to be just out of my dog's hearing range and can only be heard by the next door neighbors who are at least an acre away.

 

If it's too late to find any of these things, I'd settle for enough time to brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam container at a dog show.

 

If you don't mind, I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season. Would it be too much trouble to declare a doggy lock down session? It will clear my conscience immensely when I look at those miserable little faces.

 

It would be helpful if you could coerce my husband and children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family because after all, this is for MY Dogs!

 

Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is ringing and some of my dogs saw my feet under the laundry room door. They think I am eating dinner in here again and they are missing out on leftovers.

 

Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the door and look down so that you don't step into an "accident".

 

I would have left cookies, but between the dogs and the cat, there is no chance that anything other than drool will be left on the plate. I left you a Hot Toddy to warm you from the cold, but after a day like this, I drank it myself.

 

Yours Always,

Doggy Mom

 

P.S. One more thing ... you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my "doggy kids" in perfect show coats so that they win at the shows.

 

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah

 

(Jodi Eckardt, Luvsong Maltese, Yorkies and a Tibetan Terrier)

*****

I would like to thank www.TheDogPlace.org for the kind permission to publish this poem on my blog.