The Christmas Party

The folks who do agility in my Kennel Club get together for some holiday cheer, and since this was my first year ever to enter an agility trial, they kindly invited me.

We met at a restaurant just down the street from my house, The Pork Peddler. It is a very popular “home-style” type of eatery with a huge buffet of southern delectables. I had skipped lunch in eager anticipation.

I should never be allowed at an “all you can eat” buffet. I have no restraint. Oh, I eat the salad to be healthy. The salad with the huge chunks of real, sugar cured bacon, and the thick goopy salad dressing, and a little lettuce. Then there was the southern food: “cooked down” green beans (more bacon, or ham hocks or something yummy), buttermilk biscuits, corn (sweetened and buttered) collard greens and more bacon and lard for flavor, mashed potatoes with home style gravy, deep fried okra, ham, turkey, dressing, barbequed pork and ribs. And then seconds because I hadn’t noticed the corn on the first round and I needed more cranberry for my turkey and then I needed more turkey and dressing for the cranberry. And then, while I was on a roll: dessert. Bread pudding with thick vanilla sauce, coconut cream pie, pecan pie, cherry cobbler and some other stuff that I can’t remember because I was in a sugar and fat induced ketoacidotic stupor.

Then we loaded up and headed to club member Cathy’s house for more merriment and a gift exchange. They play “Dirty Santa” which isn’t what it sounds like – no thongs for Mrs. Claus, much to my prudish relief. Everyone who wants to play brings a wrapped gift, and then each gift giver picks a number out of a hat. The picker of number one picks a gift and opens it. Number two may either steal number one’s gift, or open another one. If number seven steals number two’s gift, then number two can steal anyone else’s or open a new one. It’s really fun!

There was one problem. I got this party confused with another party, and I thought we were supposed to bring gag gifts. Now, dear readers, I ask you to put yourself in my unenviable place for a moment. I’m the only new face at the party. I have eaten approximately four pounds, six ounces more fat-and-sugar-laden food than my stomach could hold in my wildest dreams. People are opening artfully gift-wrapped presents and they are plush dog beds, luscious blankets, and gorgeous leashes with agility motifs. The gag present I brought, wrapped in black tissue paper, is still under the tree. My stomach started to churn.

It was my turn. Beginner’s luck, I had drawn a high number, third from last. I had little beads of sweat forming on my upper lip, though I was chilled to the bone. Cold sweat. What to do? I couldn’t think. My stomach was making alarming acrobatic tumbles. My dufus present was still under the tree. Maybe it would never be opened and no one would ever know. I wanted to be part of the gang, to play along, oh my God my gut, I can’t think. In a panic, I did what the last three players had done; I stole the biggest, most cushy dog bed. Well, it did match my dining room décor perfectly. The moment I sat back down, I realized my mistake. I should have picked my own lame present and refused to open it. Oh rats and rats, why hadn’t I thought of that in time?

The last person just happened to be a very kind person who has been so supportive and helpful to me. Please, oh please take this cushy dog bed from me! Please don’t take my lame-o gag gift from under the tree. The last gift to choose, thus ending the game and leaving you, kind person who has helped me so much, with my lame-o stink-o gag gift. Oh my stomach!

But this is a kind, polite, earnest person. She would not steal someone else’s lovely gift. No, with a trusting, sweet smile, she takes my gift from under the tree. I wanted to crawl under my beautifully upholstered antique Queen Ann’s chair and hurl barbeque and bread pudding all over myself. Instead, I blurted out, “I was confused! I thought we were supposed to bring gag gifts!” and then, I started to laugh hysterically.

This person is so nice, so dear, that after she opened the candle which looks just like life sized dog poo, she said, “Oh!” and then when she opened the calendar which has full color images of dog poo on every page, she said, “Well, I need a calendar! Oh my. Dog poop? Oh my!”

I gave her back the gorgeous chenille throw which I had dirtily stolen from her (I left that part out, too shamed to include it). My dear, kind friends returned the plush bed which they had stolen from me and took the poop candle and calendar, presumably for the Kennel Club Christmas Party Fund Raising Auction tomorrow night.

I will be bidding on the poo items at the auction. If I have to donate my whole Christmas budget to the good of the Kennel Club, I will do that. But that dog poop calendar and that dog poop candle is coming home with me.