A: D – are you OK, D?
D: (Sniff). Fine, A. Why do you ask?
A: Well, the tissues are a dead giveaway. Gotta cold?
D: (Sniff, Snerf, Blooowwww). No-I mean, yes, A, I do.
A: I always wondered how you deal with modern germs.
D: A, this is not the time for your ponderings on my general health – another post, perhaps? I’m reading about Claude. Go away.
A: You’re reading—Oh, D! I’m sorry, were you crying?
D: I’m not going to dignify that with a response. Move over; you’re blocking my view.
A: Oh, give me the damn tissues; I’m going to read it too. Blankie?
D: And the chocolate too, please.
Christmastime at the Reynolds’ house was bright, cheerful and mad. Add five eager-to-please pug puppies into the mix and it was bedlam. Bedlam of the best kind, of course. There were carols and movies – A Christmas Carol, The Bells of St. Mary’s, Holiday Inn and It’s a Wonderful Life just to start – cookies and all sorts of festive moments that really made the holiday sparkle.
One by one, my brothers and sisters were given to good families. It’s never a good idea to give a dog as a Christmas present to a child or family that cannot really take care of them, but the Reynolds were smart people. My brothers and sisters, as far as I am aware, all found happy homes.
The Reynolds kept me, and through the winter, things went really well. I even got on well with their fat grey cat, Tabitha. The little girl…
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