Wink Wink

The annual Christmas bacchanalia is over. Am I referring to dancing, drinking, carousing? No. I am referring to our dog. Nine and a half years old. You'd *think* she'd have more dignity. But no. When we begin opening packages, she dives right in. She grasps the boxes with her teeth and tries to help open them. She doesn't bother the presents at all until we start opening. It's really funny. Hubby wraps one dog treat for her, and she opens it up herself. She growls when attacking the package and wags her tail furiously. Here she is, looking a little gray around the muzzle. The other thing about Maggie is that when I get out the camera while the kids open gifts, she has to stick her ass in just about every picture. This is particularly offensive because she has a tail that curls up over her back, short hair, and she's going gray around her butthole. Watching her backside winking at me every time I hold up the camera has its amusing side, of course, but we have to keep shoving her aside, getting her to sit somewhere else, and grabbing her frequently. Ahh, Christmas!