I’m Bruno, a really a good dog. I ‘m only three years old and still learning what my owner’s call “behaving”. After all, this is my first Christmas to really pay attention to the “goings-on” and a certain Santa called my name.
I was just minding my own business, coming back from getting a drink of water when I heard him say “Bruno . . . psst . . . Bruno, I’m over here.” Well, just like any self-respecting dog would do, I trotted right over to the sound. You see, I’ve been taught to come when my name is called. When I reached the source of the sound, I knew what I had to do.
First, I looked both ways to see if I was being watched. The course was clear; so I grabbed Santa full in my mouth and ran to my rug. I turned my head toward the fire place, so no one could see what I had in my mouth. Luckily, my mouth is big enough that I could get the entire little guy in it with no parts hanging out.
I knew that Santa wanted me to eat him and it seemed he would be a tasty morsel. Yet, just as I was ready to bite down, my Mother pounced. She told me to open my mouth, but I really didn’t want to do it. But, she looked pretty mean and I gave in. She just kept shaking her head and looking me in the eye as she dried my slobber off that Santa.
I wanted her to know that it wasn’t really my fault . . . that Santa made me do it. Perhaps she understood, because she finally hung that wet Santa high on the tree, laughed at me and patted my head.
I’m a good dog, but that Santa . . . I wonder what he’s made other people do.