Wednesday, December 23, 2009

holiday time.

This Christmas I received a lovely set of handmade saffron colored mittens from Ratso. I was excited; they were warm, soft, and just the right size. But there was a couple problems with this present, as

a) Ratso is a dog and
b) Rasto has been dead for 27 years.

So he technically didn’t know I would love them, or that they matched my ensemble, or that my hands had been cold for weeks. He’s dead. And a dog. But I wasn’t surprised that a dead dog gave me a present for Christmas.

My family has this weird tradition of giving each other gifts from the family’s animals: dead or alive. We don’t discriminate between cats, dogs, fish, and hamsters. We like to pretend they’ve been out shopping and thoughtfully picking out gifts for each and every one of us. We think they usually shop together. Perhaps they compare prices and use coupons. They even bring their purchases to our house where my mother is kind enough to let them use her wrapping paper to wrap them up and then place them underneath our Christmas tree on Christmas Eve.

Most families get presents from Santa. They set out some cookies and milk and wait until the morning for their Christmas dreams to come true. And we did too.

But the good presents would always come from the animals. When I was younger, I’d set out doggie biscuits and freeze dried liver next to Santa’s plate and fall asleep dreaming of dead ghost dogs coming down the chimney and stuffing my stocking with goodies.

When I was ten years old someone at the playground told me that there was no such thing as gift giving ghost animals and I ran home to my parents with tears streaming down my face. My mother comforted me and told me the story of Christmas and the Hughes family from beginning to end. It was then I realized my family was truly the only household where our animals from the past and present magically distributed gifts on Christmas Eve.

As I grew up and all of us found out that Santa Claus wasn’t real, it didn’t upset me.
Obviously Santa wasn’t the one who gave us Hughes’ our Christmas presents.

My family may be the only family in the world who knows about animal gift givers, and the only family that celebrates and embraces it.

But I am so glad we do, because as it turns out, my dead dog from 1982 has excellent taste.

Comments

No comments yet.

Add a comment