"That little bitch opened her present."
In the middle of the living room floor sat Bette among a pile of shredded wrapping paper, and a full bag of doggy treats. She did not seem the least bit disturbed by Mark's anger. In fact I think I detected a slight smirk on her face. I'm sorry that I find so much humor in this whole situation, but Mark decided to put all his gifts out next to the Christmas tree, "Because it looks festive." It looked festive to Bette too, so festive that she later opened two more of her doggy gifts. One of which she shared with Chandler, a flattened skunk squeaky toy that doesn't squeak. It is only audible to dog ears.
Watching my dogs pure joy at receiving Christmas presents, even if it's early, reminds me of the happiness that Christmas brought for me when I was young. I think it was around the age of eighteen that I stopped enjoying, or even expecting gifts, but before that I have fond memories of all of them. The bicycle that I got one year, even though I couldn't ride it until the snow and ice melted. The Lionel train set with the smiling boy on the box exclaiming "Gee". It wasn't until second or third grade that I realized the kid wasn't saying gee as in 'geek', but gee as in 'Jesus'. I think the last good childhood present that I remember getting was a carton of Winston cigarettes from my girlfriend when I was seventeen. I really liked that one. Which makes me wonder, will Bette remember Christmas? I think she will, and not for the gifts that Mark got her, but for the wrapping paper that she'll get to shred Friday morning.