Twelve Drummers Drumming

As I walk beside the beach, I see a dog jogging alongside an old man and his son. How nice, I thought, someone who actually trusts their dog enough to let him run free. When the pair slow to a walk and turn towards the road, the dog does not follow. The humans do not even look back. The dog is already looking for the next thing to play with. I near the strawberry-blond dog and discover that he has no collar. He sniffs a dying snail with innocent curiosity. I invite him to come closer, feeling an odd bond toward a fellow creature who bounds from one adventure to another. He is perfect, because he is friendly and allows me to pet him, and because he is just small enough to live in the house, and just large enough that he does not belong to the yapping toy breeds. When other masters and pets come by to play, the strawberry-blond dog and I let them assume that we go together. It is nice for a while, but then I am obliged to ask passers-by if they know my new best friend. No one does. By this time, I realize I have to return to reality. To my home, where my grandparents' dog would not allow a roommate, if only a temporary one. Leaving the loving dog at the beach was probably harder for me than it was for him. As I walk away gloomily, I glance back at the dog. He has already found a new squirrel to chase.

When I encounter a squirrel, a few weeks later, I resist the urge to scare it back up into the high branches of the gray tree.--But only just. If you have never heard the sound a squirrel makes before, it is a very queer sound indeed. My first thought when I hear it is that it must be a bird with a sore throat. My ears strain to pick up the noise again. Then I observe that it sounds more like a bark. Yes, a strange combination of a raspy chirp and a bark, albeit a very high bark, like our friends the toy dogs. I am not sure that the sound actually comes from a squirrel. My doubts are dispelled when a squirrel comes scampering around the trunk of the tree, eyeballing me with his beady, little, black eyes. He grinds his teeth while never taking his gaze from me, and then emits that wild cry once again. His companion, who is hanging onto the side of a neighboring tree, answers back, warily. The squirrel on my tree takes one more look at me, and then scuffles right up to the top branches.

At this moment, my grandparents' dog decides to scratch at the back door. The spell is broken, and it is time for me to walk back inside the house. The large German Shepherd greets me by running around my legs, and when I almost trip over her, she gets so excited she jumps onto me. Lady's nails are long, and as she slides down my legs, I can feel the scratch through the jeans onto my skin. I shoo her out of the kitchen. Lady does not mind; she just moves onto her next target: Tiger, the Maine Coon cat. I am inclined to pity the poor thing, but then I recall how remarkably alike our Tiger is to Garfield. Just as Garfield will pick a fight with Odie, for just being a dog, so also I have seen Tiger blatantly goad Lady, just for a bit of fun.

At least Lady is only playing with Tiger, instead of fighting with Freckles, my great-grandparents' dog. Freckles and his owners no longer stay with my grandparents. There would be a tussle almost every time they saw each other. Now Freckles and my great-grandparents live in the house they re-built after Hurricane Ike. On my way to visit them, I see a flock of birds fly overhead. The dark birds fly in a group, twisting and turning with the wind. They instantly remind me of certain schools of fish that swim in unison and appear to all be connected to one mind.

A few minutes down the road, I see a nasty little creature that I recognize instantly, despite my unfamiliarity with this kind of animal. It was an opossum. There was no mistaking its white face and rat-like tail. In my opinion, the opossum must be the ugliest creature on earth. For reasons unknown to me, whenever I see an opossum, I think of the R.O.U.S.'s, the Rodents Of Unusual Size, from The Princess Bride. The R.O.U.S.'s are brown and are very large, but their snout is like an opossum's, and I think they might have a similar tail too.

When I finally reach my great-grandparents' house, I find that poor Freckles is not in the best of health. The fur around his neck has all been itched off. Apparently, Freckles is suffering from an allergy, but has improved a lot this week. After a little while, my dad's cousins come over to call. It has been a long time since I have seen them last. Since I've been gone, they got a cute Chihuahua named Holly, and showed me the most adorable pictures of her. One of which shows Holly peeking out from under the bed. "Awww", the sound is out before I can check it. Lying beside me, Freckles sits up and tilts his head to one side.



On the twelfth day of Christmas my True Love gave to me twelve curious creatures, eleven o'clock rendezvous, ten sunlit minutes, nine neighborhood noises, eight perfect presents, seven souls a-singing, six sweet surprises, five Christmas treats, four different books, three great dames, two hands two thumbs, and a volunteer named Mary.