December 12, 2010: Christmas Past

Finally they removed the snow on the sidewalks but then they put down grit and salt. What is wrong with these people!? They don't remove the snow and my dick is dragging in the it; they remove the snow and I'm hopping about with grit between my pads and salt burning my tootsies! And then where they don't put the shit down it's a fucking ice rink and if I don't grab my claws right through to the pavement, I'm falling on my arse and one of the two assholes I live with finds this just hi-fucking-larious!

I didn't notice this before? Why?

"I know why," said the oh-so-familiar voice as I came into the kitchen for my late-night sip of water.

"Hello, Cosmo," I mumbled.

As usual, the phantom Dalmatian was smoking an illegal-smelling cigarette and was splayed out on the kitchen floor contemplating the ceiling as he spoke. "Having a harder winter, are you? Feeling colder, sleeping more, that kinda thing?"

"Yes."

"It's 'cause you're older," he said.

"I'm not even four, goddammit!"

"Four is not three. Three is not two. Two is not one. One is not a puppy." His voice drifted off into the ether and, for a bit, so did his shape.

Finally I barked, "Life is crap! I cannot believe it's so hard! Salt and grit and snowdrifts and fucking heat in the summer with things floating in my water bowl and never getting food when I want it and sit! and heel! and sit-fucking-pretty! and yanking on the leash and the assholes telling me where to sleep and when and when to play and when to be still!"

"Yeah, those whiney Haitians don't know what real misery is," Cosmo said, sighing.

"Yeah, fuck!"

"Shshshshshshshshshshshsh!" Cosmo whispered and the Cosmo Effect took over. I don't know if it was him, actually, or lack of sleep or his opium-laced cigarettes but he had a way of getting me to simmer down. I splayed on the floor, looking up at the ceiling with him.

"I wonder what Christmas will be like this year," I said.

"You had Christmas with them last year, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but things have changed. We talk now, for one thing, which means we all have secrets which can explode at any moment and from what I've read in books Christmas is often a time for family strife."

Cosmo snorted and said, "That's funny."

"What?"

"You just called them family."

There was a long, horrified silence. Family...oh! my fucking stars! Talk about different from last year. "Well," I said, "it's not your normal family."

"There is no such thing as a normal family. Before I moved in with the boys I was the 'baby' of a young professional couple who just adored me. I mean I was being groomed for a professional life because I was show-dog material—"

"—sure you were—"

"—no, really! I was already in training and I was still their favourite thing. It was a cuddle-fest!"

"So how come you ended up with these guys?"

"She got knocked up."

"Ah!"

"And all the books said Dalmatians and babies don't mix. So off I went to the SPCA. I thought I was in a family, but I wasn't. Then I came here, to the homos, and thought nevernevernevernever...but—"

"—yeah, but..."

"Funny how things work out, isn't it?

"Not fucking funny at all."

"Hey! Gifts...turkey...laziness...cuddling..."

"And snow and grit and salt!"

He chuckled drowsily and said, "Into each turkey a little grit must fall." He dozed off, then, and soon the Cosmo Effect kicked back in and I did too. When I awoke he had gone, as usual, and I toddled back to Boo-Boo's bed.

As I was drifting off to sleep the word "family" rolled about in my head. Finally I thought, "Nah!" and giggled at the stupidity of it all. Boo woke up a little, pulled me close to him, gave me a peck on the top of the head and went back to sleep and soon, warm as a baby, I was out too.