This is not a FaLaLa Christmas story. In fact, don’t go plowing through this blog unless you have a strong stomach.
December 24, 2017, my best friend Nancy and her malti-poo Emmy, a white confection of a pup, came by for some wine and snacks. My Pippa is ying to Emmy’s yang or visa-versa. She is a rescue mutt, a canine combo listed at the shelter as Chi X(chihuahua mix), all black, all legs, deer headed and perky eared.
We had gifts for the dogs to open. With my I phone camera focused, Nancy threw the packages to the dogs thinking they would tear off the wrapping and attack the two crinkly alligators with squeakies in their stuffed heads. After a few sniffs the dogs were indifferent and followed Nancy and me to the kitchen table where we had hoped to enjoy a queso dip and wine without the pups begging for handouts.
We both like the dip made from Velveeta cheese and Rotel. I added some browned ground round to the mixture in the crock pot. Love that pot! It simplified the cooking and kept the contents warm and gooey as we chatted and dipped, and consumed a bottle of California pinot grigio.
So Nancy, Emmy, Pippa, and I made the best of Christmas Eve. I sent Nancy home with a generous portion of dip and chips. Emmy left with an alligator in her mouth.
I cleaned up dishes, rinsing them and placing them in the dishwasher. I scooped the remaining queso dip into a plastic container and put it in the fridge. Then I filled the crock pot with water and left it in the sink.
Christmas AM 2017. I woke up remembering Christmases past with my young children up before dawn. Sweet memories. It was a cold morning. Pippa stayed under the covers. The phone rang. One of my daughters, perhaps? “Mele Kalikimaka!” No, my friend Lani checking up on me. I was touched that she thought of me.
I made some coffee and ate some of the cherry nut bread another friend delivered the day before. I felt blessed by my sweet friends.
In the sink the crock awaited my attention. I tipped it slightly and murky liquid laced with queso flowed down the drain. I saw a shadow emerging, large and dark, from the depths of the crock. It takes form. First a tail, then a swollen torso. I knew this thing. It had been tormenting me with reminders of its presence in my house.
I should be grateful it is dead. But I wanted to throw up. I threw a dishtowel over the top of the crock, lifted it out of the sink and ran to the garage. I dropped the crock/coffin and its contents unceremoniously into the dumpster. No prayers!
Will this measly mousely corpse grow into a terrifying rat monster who devours puppies? Will the chihuahua be strong and courageous enough to protect the timid malti-poo from the bloated dirty rat?