I learned some sad news today. It seems that Sam, the world’s ugliest dog, died last week. Rest in peace, Sam.

The people who write our neighborhood newsletter made the mistake of printing a story about the holiday lights contest. Judging will be Dec. 16. We must try to forgive the people who published this article. They know not what they do.
Greg and I have competitive tendencies. The presence of lights, garland, and bright red plants intensifies these tendencies. We kicked off our decorating with a homemade wreath for the front door. I nagged Greg all weekend about putting up the lights. He kept saying he wasn’t in the mood. I knew he would never be in the mood because the temperature never dips below 60 here (Greg likes to prove his manliness by putting up lights when it’s -10 degrees and snowing).
Sunday, he finally relented. We strung white lights along the first-floor roofline and wrapped them around our front columns. Our neighbors ran a string of icicle lights along their porch and put bows on their lanterns. We felt that we were comfortably in the lead, at least on our street. I worry we may be disqualified though. One of the lanterns on our garage hasn’t worked since October. Our neighbors not only have more lanterns, but all of theirs work. Greg assures me that we will have up so many Christmas lights that our regular lanterns will be unnecessary (I’m hoping to get up some photos of this). Last night, the neighbors took the contest up a notch. They strung icicle lights along their second-story roofline and wrapped their front columns with red ribbon. Not to worry, we’ll show them. I’m planning to wrap our front columns in gold ribbon. You can’t top gold. And we think we’ll buy some garland and lights to run along our backyard fence. Many plans are in the works. They cannot be revealed just yet. But rest assured, we will be out there at 2 a.m. Dec. 16 to launch our final surprise attack for the neighborhood lights contest.

Every morning, Abe waits next to our bed until I get up. I then walk downstairs with him by my side, open the back door, and let him out to do his business. We have a fenced yard so he can stay out as long as he wants. But, he comes right back so that he doesn’t miss the chance to lick a cereal bowl. After the bowls are cleaned, he’ll often head over to the couch and take a little nap. About the time I get out of the shower he comes up the stairs, into the bathroom, and licks the shower door, floor, and sometimes my leg.

This morning was a little different. After I got out of the shower, Abe did his normal slurping of the excess water. Sarah, who was blow drying her hair at this time, stopped and said, “You know why he’s doing that? Because he’s been eating a lot of beef this morning. It made him thirsty.”

“Beef?” I was skeptical of that, but also a little worried. I knew we had bought a steak the night before. Had Sarah set the steak out to thaw, only to have Winston knock it to the floor and into the waiting jaws of our little terror?

“Yes.” And Sarah gave a little nod towards the bedroom. Then it was clear. This morning, he skipped the nap on the couch and lay down on his pillow bed next to our bed, where there was now a good amount of stuffing. He had spent the time chewing on his cow, or his “Moo” as we have taken to calling it. While he hasn’t gotten to the good rib section yet, he has managed to empty most of the legs. I laughed and felt relieved, knowing my dinner was still secure in the fridge, at least until the cat figures out how to open the freezer door. And that is only a matter of time.