A '60s Christmas Eve

I meant to have this out last night for Christmas Eve, but life, as it sometimes does, had other plans. So I’m here with The Elixir of Knowledge watching a Christmas sunrise. And remembering a Christmas Eve that did not go as planned but was oh-so memorable.

We three kids were kindergarten to 4th. I remember Mom answering the phone then herding us into the living room and onto the couch. Where we sat. And sat. And sat. Mom just smiled.

Headlights turned into the driveway. We saw Dad walk past the window. He came in the front door, smiled at Mom, and turned to us.

Then he yipped. But his lips didn’t move.

His jacket started to move as something crawled across his chest. Thank goodness I wouldn’t see that Alien movie for another thirty years or I would have been terrified as a small head popped out.

Dad reached in and gently pulled out a tiny baby Chihuahua. The couch exploded with squeals of delight as we launched off across the living room to see this wondrous thing.

Mom had a cardboard box ready for it, complete with a cloth-covered hot water bottle and an old wind-up alarm clock. To save it from a petting-pummeling, she put it in the box. We could only look at it.

It was a fawn-colored female Chihuahua with an active tongue and a propeller tail. Due to its diminutive size, she was immediately christened “Tinkerbell”.

We sat around the box, the little dog standing on the clock to look over the edge - and whining pitifully. We pleaded for its release - while whining pitifully. Mom and Dad finally caved.

Tink, (she received a prompt nickname) staggered through the shag carpeting, her nose twitching. She picked up speed, her tail reaching maximum RPMs. We three were on our hands and knees, playing the part of wingmen as Tink made to the other end of the living room. Suddenly, she stopped and began to look side-to-side. Her tail stopped spinning, pointing straight up as her hips dropped, back legs splayed

That’s when Christmas Eve took a more exciting turn. Things happened quickly, so here’s my best recollection. First, Mom made an astute observation.

“Robert-Robert-it’s-peeing-Robert!”

Dad, moving with impressive speed, palms Tink like a basketball and heads for the cardboard box . 

“It's peeing on the carpet! Robert!”

Dad acknowledged this fact with pretty colorful job-site language. Looking back, we were fortunate Tink wasn’t peeing on Church carpet. During a sermon. While we’re sitting up front.

We kids screamed like Godzilla was looking in the window. Mom kept up here encouragement. Dad kept answering her with colloquialisms. The leaking pup flew above the carpet like a plane trying to put out a forest fire, running dry just as she got to the box. That’s when Mom made the call.

“It stays in the box!”

It sounded more like a life sentence than a temporary restraining order.

Dad and Mom got paper towels and a spray bottle, working to remove the experience from the carpet. We were again banished to the couch. Five minutes passed, the living room filled with whimpers coming from the box and the couch.

“C'mon, Mom, Dad.” “It's empty now!” “Awww…it's scared.” “Pleeeeeeeeease?”

Deep parental sighes found Tink staggering through damp carpet, her tail back to high RPMs., here wing-kids crawling beside her.

The little tail stopped in an upright position. She started to tip-toe in circles as she humped her back.

Mom was on it.

“Robert-Robert-it’s-pooping-Robert!”!

Godzilla made a second appearance. Kids dove onto the couch, screaming.  Dad grabbed a wad of paper towel, dropped to all fours, and followed the little straining bottom around the living room, his bellow loud enough to be heard over the cacophony on the couch.

 “YOU’VE NEVER HAD SERVICE LIKE THIS, DOG!”

(The visual of Dad crawling around the floor, collecting those fresh-pressed little brown cylinders, would haunt us for years.  We didn’t eat Tootsie-Rolls until we hit high school,)

“In the box, Robert.  Put it in the box!”

Dad put the now completely-emptied Tink in the box. He looked down at her like I assumed God did to Adam and Eve in the Garden.

“We've only had you five minutes, dog, and you've done two things you're never supposed to do in the house!”

This generated an eruption of concern from the couch-bound.

“Pleeeeease, can't we keep it? “ “We gotta keep it!” “Don’t throw it away!.”

We need not have worried. Tink was the first of two dozen Chihuahuas to wander the living room carpet and, yes, some left their mark - but all were loved and enjoyed.

Sometimes life doesn’t go as planned. Sometimes it’s better.

May you and yours enjoy the best of this Christmas. God bless.