My husband is not an easy man to buy for... ask him what he wants for Christmas and he'll reply: "a peeg". You see, he's forever had this dream of owning a pet pig. Not the pot-bellied kind, the 300- pound pink kind! When I tell him that pigs are out of the question, he tells me that he would settle for a dog. Dogs aren't even allowed to visit our chocolate-making establishment, let alone live here! Still, it got us to thinking - if we could have a dog, what would he want from Santa? Here's what we came up with:
I have been a good boy - I know because my elf- master, Pascal, and his holly-jolly wife, Charlene consistently declare, "Good boy, Peeg." (That is of course what Pascal would want to call his dog!) Sometimes, as they sip wine after a hard day's work, they'll say, "Be a good boy, Peeg. Fetch the fromage and the baguette."
Now, Santa, we dogs are shorter than reindeer. And I can't lay a finger beside my nose to rise anywhere - I don't have fingers. Heck, I have to use a hind foot to scratch my ear. Try that, you chubby ol' elf. You'd be wassailing in traction!
That's why I'd like a three-step ladder for Christmas. With a ladder, I could reach the refrigerator door handle and the cabinet shelf on which peanut butter is stored. I'd be a bother to no one! I could retire my "hungry whimper" and get the necessities of life myself: peanut butter, ice cream, saucissons and egg nog. Plus, a ladder would give me an advantage over my ridiculous neighbors Snowball and Fluffy. Cats have climbing permits, but they don't know what to do when they get up there. Stare or jump down - that's about it.
As you know, Santa, we dogs have a clear link to Christmas. There is that old carol While Shepherds Watch Their Flocks. And, of course, the spot-on reference to us loyal companions, O Come, All Ye Faithful.
Finally, Santa, just two more requests: I'd like a Thumbless Master Remote and a TV - when the humans are gone, I'd be able to surf the channels and maybe catch reruns of Lassie. I'd also like a Thumbless Oven Mitt. After watching Pascal and Charlene, I too can juggle saucepans for French recipes but the thumb-and-fingers mitt makes me feel inadequate. Please make my oven mitt white to go with the chef's hat I got while studying at the famed Parisian cooking school, The Dogbonne.
Alas, no pigs for Pascal, no dogs for Pascal... what else does he want for Christmas? A red convertible Ferrari!