Christmas to a dog.

Happy Friday, you lovely people. It’s not long before Christmas now. I wrote this festive-themed piece recently. It is written from the perspective of our late dog, Pepper. I hope you enjoy it. See you at the end.

I wept as they took the Christmas decorations down from the attic.

“Here we go again!” I thought to myself, “this shite.”

If I could talk, I would say something like:

“Why must we do this again? Barry always stresses himself out. Mam always takes over the decorating. The other two don’t even help!”

I think all that because I can only bark. They tell me to shut up as they gather the boxes from the attic to the landing. Boy, I hate this time of year. This was made even worse a couple of years ago.

My Auntie Louise bought me this stupid elf costume and gave it to me on Christmas day. A bit of turkey would’ve been fine, but she had to go down the bizarre route.

She put that stupid costume on me, and everyone was falling around the place laughing. Not cool. Man, I hate this time of year.

The day starts early. They all get up at the same time, for once. I am always working the night shift, so I am already exhausted.

The afternoon is usually fine. That’s when the wine begins to pour. It doesn’t get too messy until the second bottle is opened. Boy, I hate this time of year.

She did hate this time of year. She would for sure say as much if she could speak. This will be our first Christmas without her in many years and it’s going to be very strange. But, we’ll toast to her and hope she will be looking down on us. She certainly won’t be celebrating.