Christmas Tale I

'Tis the season of course. I have a few quick Christmas stories to share over the next couple days.

Between the age of 12 and 15 I had a paper route. It was one of those morning gigs necessitating my alarm to ring at about 5 a.m. Don't even ask me how I was able to do it for years and years for the meager wages of $37 a week, but somehow I was.

One frigid Christmas morning, as I was delivering to my third-to-last house, I prepared myself for the daily freak out of that particular customer's dog. It was a little guy, perhaps Border Collie-sized, and without fail it went ballistic every time I closed the paper into the storm.

Apparently, the customer wasn't really bothered by it all but I couldn't help but cringe every time.

So I hear the dog going nuts as I turn on my heel to vacate their porch and it was then I noticed their Christmas tree, through the picture window, completely decorated and still lighted falling not-so-gently onto its side. Fido must have gotten caught up in it, or its wiring or whatever, but it created a six foot, shiny, blinking, noisy avalanche of balsam.

Good morning. And Merry Christmas. That must have been a fun one.