Who Invited Mel Gibson to Christmas?

'Twas the night before Christmas,

And all through the fog,

All the creatures were stirring,

Including my dog...

::PAUSE::

This needs an introduction. And less rhyming.

INTRODUCTION: Marriage is wonderful. You get to share everything, you always have someone to make you smile, you get to be a human boot check because your wife is too stupid to get cowboy boots off on her own .... What bliss! Sometimes you are so finely in tune with each other that you don't even need words to communicate, and that beautiful exemplar of matrimonial harmony is where this story is headed.
 

::AND UNPAUSE (minus rewriting any beloved classics)::

It really was the night before Christmas and John and I were packing up the car to head to my parents' house for Christmas Eve festivities. Part of the preparation was me shoving Razzie into a Santa dress with a giant tutu. I am only allowed to dress her up once a year, so I make it count. It's adorable! And mildly abusive! And because I am an equal opportunity humiliater, I had put on my annual Christmas adornment, antlers. Because, antlers.

Anyway, John was upstairs and I walked out the front door with Razzie, in all our festive glory. Alas, as soon as she scampered down the stairs her collar popped off. If you have ever owned a small dog who is part hellhound, you know what moment came next. The frozen-no breathing-praying that she won't notice-shuffling forward-talking in high pitched voice-reaching forward slowly moment. You also know what moment followed. Razzie turned to me, we locked eyes, and then:

She was off like a bat out of hell. Now, Razzie loves to run. And if she is chased IT'STHATMUCHMOREFUNMUSTRUNFASTER!!!! Knowing this, I though to myself, "self, you will never catch her. If you go get John or your car keys you won't know where she went. BUT if you chase her and scream really, really loudly John can figure out what's happening, get in the car, and follow your yelling and flailing and catch her." Genius. Fool proof.

So. I ran. Take a moment to take in the visual: I am wearing antlers, holding a leash with an empty collar, chasing a thirteen pound dog wearing a tutu, and screaming like a maniac. You're welcome.

BUT. THE POINT OF MY STORY. Five minutes later, as I'm gasping for air watching Razzie have a grand old time two blocks away, John drove past me and Razzie got in the car.

The conversation that followed:

John: "You know chasing her just makes her run faster."

Me: "....nerfgghhblar.... heeeeeeegah...."

John: "I heard you screaming and figured out that Razzie had gotten out."

Me: "ghhheee.... graphelgasp."

John: "I finished loading the car since I knew you'd know which way she went and I'd be able to catch her even though you were egging her own. I followed your yelling. You're welcome."

Me: "gasp...that was... a good... plan."

BAM. MARRIAGE.

And to all a good night.