Merry Christmas,
Grendal here. No one else has time to write the annual Christmas letter so I’m doing it in hopes that someone will stop making and eating cookies and put on their sneakers and take me for a walk.
Adam’s got his sneakers on. Since graduating from BYU law school and passing the California bar, he’s moved into the downstairs bedroom and now he’s picked up his keys. He’s walking out the door without the leash.
Bethany’s Chandler would take me for a walk if he were here. Their family moved to Las Vegas when Brandon graduated from chiropractic school, which is great because they’re able to visit a lot more. Chandler is always up for a romp and Sterling usually has something sticky and delicious on his face and he doesn’t mind being licked. Both boys are pretty good about dropping food and spilling milk.
Nathan is rarely around. He studies information systems at BYU and travels to places like Mexico, Japan and Bolivia on service stints. He found the time to help the mom with her online catalog of friendly family books, eclecticbookscatalog.com (look for the mom’s book) but he doesn’t have time for a walk.
Jared hasn’t been here for more than a year. He’s a missionary in Taiwan. He’s named after his Grandpa Dickson who just celebrated his ninetieth birthday, but I wasn’t invited to that party or that vacation. But neither was Jared junior. He stayed in Taiwan and I stayed with pet sitters.
Natalie is on the Tesoro academic decathlon A team and is in the a cappella choir. She spouts random facts and sings, but she doesn’t drop food or run.
Miranda is on the comedy sportz team and is a drama thespian. She’s funny and generous with the treats as long as I do tricks, although for me that means jumping through hoops—literally.
The mom doesn’t drop food. In fact, she sweeps up dropped food--such a waste. She also eats all the chocolate—which happens to be my all time favorite food. I have to scrounge for it. She spends a lot of time in the kitchen, making all sorts of different types of food, drops almost nothing, sweeps up after herself and feeds me kibble.
The dad only takes me running when the mom comes with us because he has an aversion to poop bags. He thinks he’s too busy and important because he’s senior vice president of whatever and executive secretary of whats-it to pick up poop.
Wait…I hear the jingle of the leash. I smell socks. I have to run. I love this time of the year when the air is cold and crisp and bright lights shine from all the houses and chocolates are passed from friend to friend…and sometimes dropped. May we all paws to consider the gift and life of our Lord and God and give thanks for the only gift that truly matters—love.
Merry Christmas from the Tates and Grendal, the dog.
No comments:
Post a Comment