After we got home from Voyage of the Dawn Treader, the making of Christmas dinner commenced, and the Great Beagle Caper happened while we were gone. The Great Beagle Caper has been enacted by all our beagles, and it’s one of the ways we can tell that we got the right dog. My mother put a table cloth on Christmas Eve morning, now no one get ahead of me please. We put a full plate of cookies on that table, and also there was a stick of butter in the butter dish. Everything was fine while we were there, but once we left to see Narnia, the caper began.
Apparently, Max our 13-inch beagle pulled the table cloth either with claws or teeth until it was half off the table. Needless to say, the cookies were now closer to him, but they never ended up on the floor. Somehow, he pushed out one of the chairs far enough to jump from the floor to it, and from there to the table. He then instituted his own Christmas dinner. In addition to the cookies, he also snacked on the stick of butter. See, if he’d eaten lobster, he could’ve had his own butter sauce.
When we got home, the butter dish was on the floor with a chip in it, the cookie platter was still on the table, and Max probably wasn’t so happy he’d eaten those cookies any more. Oh well, who am I kidding if I could eat a dozen of my mother’s homemade chocolate chip cookies, I’d do it. Even with being sick, it’d be worth it. Max was pretty under the weather for a few days after that, but having it to do over again, I’m sure he’d do the same thing. I know I would. That chipped butter dish, and the intact cookie platter are Spode. Max was in my mother’s dog house for a little while for the chipped spode.
Back to the humans, and their dinner. My dad started the lobster; my mom started the baked potatoes. While the lobsters were broiling, my dad made the antipasto. For those of you who don’t know, there used to be an unclepasto, but he was an ally of the titans. He’s locked up in Tartarus, and now there’s only auntie left. Everyone else had wine with dinner, but I just had apple juice. I have enough issues seeing singularly without the added attraction of alcohol-induced double vision; I also don’t like the taste of alcoholic beverages.
We sat down sometime later to dinner with Christmas music in the background, and an unhealthily satiated beagle for company. The lobster was very good as usual, but the unfortunate thing was that Mark was there. I’d tried to convince my parents to get four lobsters without Mark, and I’d eat his for him. No dice. After dinner, the dishes were cleaned and put away, and everyone relaxed for a few hours. Then my parents and Mark went to midnight mass, and I kept Max company. Max is now a proper Taticchi beagle, Fred and Barkley got illicit cookies in their turn. and now Max has too.