.
There was a dog who had his very own spot in his very own house. It was a spot where he laid whenever he was in a good mood. It was his favorite spot. From there he could relax, look over the front room and past that out the window over the city. The people, the other dogs.. it was all in his domain.
.
The problem was, every year, once a year, his lying down spot was corrupted. They took the chair away from his spot, and he would have to lay on the floor.
.
But he could only lay on the floor for a few stolen minutes before a tree was put up. Not a real tree mind you, but a Christmas tree. Technically, it was real-ish. But the tree had already been cut, and they slowly died. They weren't even worth marking. The smell of tree faded over time. For a dog, the fading of the smell was the same as the limbs drying out for people.
.
And, for some reason, it's branches laid out lower and lower so he couldn't lie there. And then the space filled out with presents. The presents were someone exciting to the people, but they didn't usually smell and they were boring for him.
.
And then, one Christmas, a fat man named Santa Claus came by and asked what he wanted for Christmas. For that one time a year when they took away his spot.
.
And he asked for his spot. Some way for his spot and Christmas to co-exist.
.
Well the Santa thought and thought and finally said, "Okay, next Christmas we will have the tree AND your spot in the same place." And Ashford thought, "Right. We'll see."
.
But Santa was true to his word christmas 2005.
.
 |
| Ashford and the Tree sharing his spot. (Trevor at 6 months is walking by...) |