Our family is out of sync with the rest of the world and it will be another couple of weeks before we get together to celebrate Christmas. Yesterday was a day to touch base with more traditional family and friends with emails, texts, and calls. Chickens must be fed and goats must be milked regardless of a holiday, so one day begins exactly like the next here. Arden came by in the early afternoon and brought a favorite movie for us to watch together. The soundtrack alone for "A Room With A View" was worth the price of admission.
As my friend was leaving, I noted that Bessie Anne was busy worrying something in the leaves. I waved goodbye to Arden and went to investigate. Bess must be a firm believer in the Santa for Little Dogs, because she had found the skeletal remains of an entire deer leg and it was hers alone. Oh joy, oh bliss. My home-baked dog biscuits will pale in comparison to this treasure.
After putting the critters to bed last evening, Bess and I went down to get the mail. I thought, "What the heck, it is Christmas," and instead of turning the truck around, we went on down the big road to a nearby mobile home park and drove slowly around looking at their light displays, just as in the old days.
When Bessie later asked to go out for our nightly walk, her first stop was to pick up a hidden two-foot jointed section of leg that she carried with her around the drive like a trophy. Strange as it may be for someone who sometimes has a flock of chickens in the laundry room, I draw the line at deer bones in the house. The look on Bessie's face spoke volumes as I took the leg away from her so we could come back in. She partially forgave me when I showed her where I put her present for safekeeping (outside). Going out in the dark this morning, it was the first thing she wanted.
Santa was good to Bessie Anne.