We got him one Christmas; or rather he got us. It seems that neighbors across the street from my mom and dad weren’t too interested in raising the litter of pups their female dog (pedigree unknown) had produced the month before. In fact, they didn’t notice when a tiny four-pound pup wandered from their yard, across a busy street and up my parent’s driveway. My son and I were visiting and, well, it was love at first sight. With my six-year-old holding the little ball of fur in his arms, Dad visited the neighbors and asked whether they’d be willing to part with the pup. Not only were they willing, but they were also thrilled to get rid him. “Yeah, take him. Do you want any more?”

One was enough.

We had already decorated the tree when Sam moved in. A week before Christmas, my dad and son walked into the local Savings & Loan Association, where I worked, with sheepish looks on their faces. “Sam knocked over the Christmas tree,” my dad said. John nodded in agreement. Many of the ornaments were broken and the lights were askew, they informed me, and icicles previously hanging from pine branches now adorned the living room carpet. They just wanted to let me know before I got home so I wouldn’t be mad at Sam.

After they left I tried to picture that pint-sized pup knocking over an 8-ft. tree. Hmmmm. Did I sense a conspiracy? Besides, how could I ever get mad at that sweet little guy. We were buddies for eleven years.

You tell me? Here’s a picture of John and Sam on Christmas day. Who do you think knocked over the tree?

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate and Happy Holidays to all! And, may your tree stay upright!