I may have mentioned that for a few years I have wanted white light up deer for a Christmas decoration. I had the chance when our neighbor moved and was selling her deer. She put the kibosh on the sale though when she said “it’s just what to do with them after Christmas that’s the problem.” They put them in the garage attic which has potential for serious spousal injury. It was my golden opportunity and I did not buy them. Instead, I bought a leg lamp.
If you are familiar with the movie “A Christmas Story” (and who isn’t..somehow 24 hours of Ralphie and his bb gun strikes a chord at Christmas) then you will understand the leg lamp. The movie was partially filmed in Cleveland and I remember when they wanted extras. It was in the early 80s and they wanted people to come in winter old fashioned coats for the Higbee’s store and parade scene. It was the middle of summer so I passed. I could have been a star! At least we have a major award to call our own. But I digress…back to the deer.
My husband has inexplicably rejected the notion of the deer. He is a kind and considerate man, however. Last week when I got home he asked me if I came in the front door. I said no. He asked if I looked at the sidewalk. No. He asked if I noticed ANYTHING at all…no. He led me to the front door and showed me three little lighted objects by the sidewalk.
I wasn’t sure what they were…flames? Spaceships? That’s all I could come up with. He looked very pleased with himself and said “they’re chickens.” I honestly couldn’t do anything but repeat…chickens? You know how in cozy mysteries or romances, someone always “sputters”? This is the only time in my life I sputtered. He said “I thought they would be bigger.” Three solar powered lighted chickens. Here is a picture of a chicken unlit.
It took me a few minutes to wrap my head around the chickens in the front yard but I love them! They are unique in our neighborhood of inflatable Santas and snowmen, and of course light up deer. It was one of my favorite gifts ever! I think they are a reference to the napkins I put in his lunch. I make his lunch on the days he goes into the office, figuring if he has to drive in it’s the least I can do. Plus I have all day to rest up from the effort of making a lunch. Anyway, on the napkin I draw chicken man and his friends/family doing relevant activities.
For example, chickens went to the summer Olympics. We had vaulting chicken, balance beam chicken, and flame carrying chicken. This morning chickens were having fun in the snow, making snow angel chickens, snow chickenmen, and throwing snowballs at each other. As you may have guessed we have snow!
Chester loves the snow. He runs out full speed, launching off the deck like he saw a bunny, and does zoomies around the yard. He buries his face in it and throws the snow in the air with his snoot. He eats the snow off of the deck or licks the ice. He then runs in the house and shakes snow all over. It’s pretty predictable overall. Last night though he was in a mood. He went out and in three times, getting a biscuit after each time. Finally, when he asked to go out again, I said no. I mean come on, enough is enough.
Usually when I say no he’s ok with it, jumps on the couch and watches tv, falls asleep or chews his bone. Last night he was not taking no for an answer. He went into the kitchen and brought out anything he could reach off the counter. He brought out kitchen utensils, silverware, baggies, whatever he could grab. He trotted out with the forbidden item and side-eyed us to see if we noticed. One of us said “No, Chester” and took it back to the kitchen. He thinks if we go into the kitchen, he will get a biscuit, so he prances into the kitchen with us. We do not reward this bad behavior but hope springs eternal. Kitchen = biscuit. The last hurrah was when he came out with the stick of butter. I grabbed it, slimy and all, and threw it out. I also said no. Then I washed my hands. Maybe not in that order. It was disgusting. He finally gave up and lay down by the fire, cuddling his long-suffering bunny.
He does not understand that Santa is watching. Dog presents are still at the North Pole. They won’t hit our house until the day before Christmas Eve, since someone would be insufferable in his quest to investigate.
Truth is, we could change this behavior, but his attempt at rebellion isn’t necessarily a bad thing. When we first got him he was pretty anxious and worried. My husband said last night that “he has grown into his own Chester skin” and is a true hound. This is true. A little badness is also his attempt at controlling his world, and it shows he is not afraid of us. Shoot, one of our past dogs ate a whole stick of butter AND a half loaf of bread. At least Chester spared the bread!
Time to put the chains on my boots. While our street isn’t bad, I’m paranoid about falling. I’ve fallen twice and Chester didn’t do anything except take the opportunity to look for Enzo or a bunny. I could lie there for days, a lump in the snow, and he would run off and join a gang. The bad dog gang. Good thing he’s cute!