… when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a squeak…
Unwilling to jeopardise the arrival of the jovial Santa Paws, bringer of gifts to all good doggies on Christmas Eve, I made sure every one of my squeak toys (and there are many) were tucked up in their squeaky wee beds in good time.
When I finished their squeak-time story they all settled down like good wee squeaks and promised faithfully to go to sleep so that Santa Paws could visit them and leave them a nice squeaky present for being good squeaks all year.
Well after all that I don’t mind telling you I was a bit pooped myself so once I made sure Mum and Dad were sleeping peacefully I made one final night patrol and lay down in my bed for a nice bit of shuteye.
Only to be woken up minutes later by a terrible noise. It was awful – deafening in fact and it sounded just exactly like a squeak in terrible pain. SQUEAK-OOH SQUEAK-OOH it went. I was out of my blankets in seconds and started barking my head off to alert Mum & Dad that there was a MAD SQUEAK-KILLER on the loose. On Christmas Eve too! Imagine!
The light clicked on and I saw Dad hopping around on one foot rubbing his big toe furiously. SQUEAK-OOH was coming from both Dad and the squeak he had trodden on. Squeak went SQUEAK and Dad went OOH. SQUEAK-OOH, geddit?
Well I did what any daxie would do I rescued the squeak immediately and put him back into his squeak bed after giving him a hug and seeing he was ok. I mean having one of Dad’s great scaly feet tramping all over your head in the middle of the night can never be a good thing. Next I turned to Dad and planted my tiny wee self right in front of him with a no-nonsense look on my face. I tell you if my front leggies were long enough I would have crossed them, I was that mad. Dad seemed to get the vibe. ‘Sorry Nuts,’ he whispered ‘hope I didn’t wake you up.’
WAKE ME UP!
WHAT ABOUT SQUEAK!
WHAT ABOUT SANTA PAWS!
I started shouting these important points at him in a series of sharp barks which seemed to annoy Dad, although why he should be the one to get annoyed I don’t know. We dachshunds are nothing if not stubborn so I kept right on barking and sure enough Dad calmed down. ‘There, there Nutty Boom-Boom,’ he patted my head and scratched behind my ears where he knows I like to be tickled. I considered taking advantage of the moment and going in for the full tummy rub but there was no time. The squeaks were still asleep and I had to get Dad shuffled off back to bed before Santa Paws arrived.
Every canine knows Santa won’t come if there is a human around, especially little puppy humans and whilst it has been very many years since Dad was a puppy, I was taking no chances. I tried nosing him gently towards the stairs. ‘Oh ho the Boomer,’ he said ‘you want rid of me eh?’
‘Well yeah Dad, Santa Paws is coming.’
‘Yes because Santa Claus is coming,’ Dad rambled on.
Did he just say Santa Claus?
‘Santa Paws,’ I corrected.
‘Aye soon be Santa Claus time Nutty Boom-Boom,’ Dad ambled upstairs and went back to bed.
‘Santa Paw –‘I started to say but no point. Clearly the man is as deaf as a post and I could only hope that Mr Paws saw fit to bring Dad a hearing aid as his present this year.
I climbed back into my nest of blankets and put my wee houndy face on my paws. I listened carefully but all the squeaks were asleep and by the sound of those elephant snores coming from upstairs, Dad was too. Time for some shuteye myself now.
Hope Santa Paws was good to you all!
Until next week. Love and leggies. Nutty x
Me with Santa Paws presents for the squeaks (I’m the one in the Santa hat!)