Christmas Morning – 11 am

It’s now 11 and the people have been gone a while.

Nervous you wonder if you should shred some tissues in a pile.

You look around and see the mess from before

And with heart a flutter you run forth skidding across the hardwood floor.

With a most satisfying sound paper scatters in every direction

And no people at home so you don’t have to worry about detection.

 

The joy on your face as you start shredding a bow

Is a look that only you will know.

You watch in the shiny paper this other dog who looks just like you

That dog mimics your enthusiasm for a minute or two.

With great gusto you spring toward the dog to play

But as you stand on the paper you see that dog decided not to stay.

 

Well that is ok you think as you roll around

Wallowing in the best kind of toy, one you could not have found

If the people had remained instead of dashing off.

Whatever it is it can’t be this fun you scoff.

Perhaps when the pups are back you will invite them in

To thrash an romp in this crinkly wonderland of bows and paper so thin.

 

You begin to tire from several minutes of pure joy

The joy that derives from such an unexpected unusual toy.

Paper lays scattered and tattered around the tree

But this type of thing is not something you stop to see

As tired you begin to think it must be time for a nap

This makes your tail wag, giving some ornaments a slap.

 

Proud of all that you’ve done you flop down

Feeling good about the crinkly bed-like mound.

Perhaps with luck this can be your new bed

A thought that begins to rapidly fill your head

Because life is easy, when you find something so sweet

You make it yours. Yes, things are so simple, easy, and neat.

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