Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Reindeer Games

We dogs do wonder about you humans. Don't get me wrong. We know that you love us, and lord knows we love you. You feed us and rub our tummies and talk to us in goofy voices. You pull ticks off of us and towel us off when we come in from the rain. You rub our ears and tell us your troubles, as if we were bartenders or priests, and we take your secrets with us to our graves. It's a good thing for the most part, this companion species bargain we've struck with you. But what's up with the silly holiday costumes? Come to think of it, what's up with the silly holidays? Oh, well, anything to keep the fans happy. Here's a photo of me in my Christmas get-up. Go ahead. Print it out. Put it on your fridge. You know you want to.

The truth is, my moms haven't pulled the reindeer tiara out of the Christmas box yet this year. Our house looks about as festive as Karl Rove's office on the morning of November 8. It's partly that the moms have been preoccupied with the end of the semester, but they're also kind of disgusted with the whole tawdry spectacle. For the past couple of years, when asked what she wants for Christmas, Moose has replied, "World peace and the re-building of the Gulf Coast." She means it. Moose has always considered herself a member of the club described in an interesting piece by Randy Kennedy in last Sunday's New York Times, the "Atheists Who Kind of Don’t Object to Christmas Club." She likes cookies and celebrations and trees festooned with brightly colored lights as much as the next person and has never felt that such rituals had much to do with believing in the divinity of Jesus. "O Holy Night" is one of her favorite songs, particularly the version done by Rickie Lee Jones with the Chieftans, but she doesn't believe a word of it.

Still, Moose hasn't caught even her modified version of the Christmas spirit yet this year. She'll sometimes stand in front of the house trying to figure out how to make a peace sign out of lights for the front windows. She's consulted with Goose on the subject and tried several Google searches, but the front of the house is bare. She hasn't even gotten the extensive collection of Danbury Mint ornaments her mother has given her over the years out and up on the mantle.

I think the war has got her down. And Republican meanness. She can't stand that cheesy little interview the Bushes did with People magazine, where the prez disingenuated (also ought to be a word--and Bush probably thinks it is) on the subject of Mary Cheney's pregnancy and Laura made nasty little digs about Condoleezza Rice's marital status as an impediment to any presidential ambitions she might harbor. It apparently takes a village to run for president and Condi has spent so much time tending the village idiot in the White House for the past six years that she's neglected to have a life. Or so sweet Laura implies.

On a happier note: Roxie's World has made its first appearance ever on anybody's Best of anything list! This being our very first turn into a new year in the blogosphere, we are honored indeed that our pal Damion, the Official Ex-Smoker of Roxie's World and the genuis behind Queering the Apparatus, has given us his "Political/ Sports/ Canine/ Newcomer Award." We know that competition in this category must have been exceptionally keen, and we are grateful to Damion for the faith in us this award shows and shall always endeavor to be worthy of it, though we bow humbly before the awesome example of QTA's stunning mixture of wit, queer theory, and snarky/rapturous/spot-on film commentary. Get over there now, fans. I'm going to take Moose to bed and see if she wakes up in a cheerier mood tomorrow. She better, because she and Goose are going to pick up the new Prius in the morning. Photos to follow soon!

6 comments:

  1. Stop it!
    Roxie, I am seriously going to have an overdose on cute if I continue to look at that picture of you in the reindeer tiara. And since this picture of you is already on my fridge... and my bathroom mirror... and in my wallet, I have no choice.

    Simply put, Roxie darling, you are delicious in your holiday finery.

    And *blush* thanks for the "official Ex-Smoker" title, and for all the lovely things you wrote about QTA.

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  2. Anonymous12:20 PM EST

    We're supposed to take those secrets with us to our graves?!?? That's OK for terriers, maybe, but what do you think beagles are doing when we stand out in the yard and bay? We're not just announcing the weather, you know!

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  3. Anonymous9:14 PM EST

    And another thing--and I hope it's not bad etiquette to comment twice on one post--humans get confused about their own holidays! Halloween is about costumes (and food!). But Christmas is about getting together with friends and family (and food!). Also about massive merchandizing, but you covered that already.

    Anyway, I went to a Christmas party, which was great, but my human (being only human) forgot that what really counts is smell, not looks, so, although I smelled like a perfectly good beagle, my human decided for some reason I should go disguised as a big vanilla RASPBERRY! Of course, if you looked, you would see a rather fine-looking 13-inch tricolor beagle. But where it REALLY counts, which is smell, I was a 13-inch vanilla raspberry!

    Yuck! Had to go out on the lawn later and get some proper scent on.

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  4. Roxie,
    I lurve the photo of you in antlers. I should get some for Dylan - who can never be dolled up enough for his Momma. Anyway, I just wanted to let you and your Moms know that I made it to Jamestown yesterday in the rain. Will be here until next Wednesday or until the holiday drives me nuts - whichever comes first. Happy happy joy joy to you and your Moms.
    Cheers,
    Auntie Faye

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  5. Anonymous12:12 PM EST

    Roxie, oh my goodness! I can't believe any self-respecting terrier would pose in that get-up, let alone post a picture on the Internet for all the world to see. How could you let your Moms do that to you????

    Nevertheless, happy holidays and a safe and peaceful New Year to you and to them. Go Terps!

    Your canine web pal,

    Ripley

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