Christmas, as everyone knows, is all about Small Dog. At least that’s what he told me… Indeed as Christmas approaches a glint tends to appear in small Dog’s eyes… the glint not of the happiness of Christmas per se, but more the glint of a dog who knows copious amounts of Turkey, sausages, ham and assorted cakes will soon be on the cards.
Every year Dom and I buy Small Dog one of those Pedigree chum Christmas stocking things and each year it’s pretty much given a light courtesy sniff before being entirely rejected. Yes this may seem a waste of money on our part but as the only present he will readily accept is a gift-wrapped Dom I think we’ll stick to Pedigree Chum thanks! Despite being well known as small dog throughout the land though young Paddington, it would seem, is not content with mere doggy treats and has those big puppy dog eyes set firmly upon the Christmas Turkey.
Now Small Dog may look like a cute, cuddly and abundantly friendly little dog, and indeed much of the time he is exactly that. However I’m beginning to suspect he may also be the greatest criminal mastermind in a generation. Not only has he hatched many (only occasionally thwarted) plans to steal my wife from me and garner all of her attention but he has now created a growing circle of followers, manipulating each of them into thinking that they still maintain control whilst it is clear to me that Small Dog holds all the aces. Since moving house earlier this year the boy has claimed no less than 6 seats as his own including, most significantly, a seat at the dinner table.
Now at first this was done quite subtly, merely jumping up beside the weaker members of his pack as they eat, purely to be affectionate of course. Gradually they would pick him up and put him on their knee as they ate… a position that inevitably led to some of that delicious meat passing over his head being diverted towards a grateful muzzle. Next came the actual claiming of an empty seat… a once frowned upon activity now met with applause… “awww, do you want to join the rest of your family at the dinner table Paddington? Isn’t that cute!”. Cute it may be, but the power play was already in motion… Gradually building in confidence though the Small Dog became much more brazen and pounced immediately upon his chance one Sunday Roast and as the seat at the top of the table was vacated he moved in, pouncing upon the now empty seat and pronouncing himself to indeed be the head of the table.
Fear not though, dear readers, for as the sole family member still unaffected by the Small Dog evil Jedi mind tricks I of course moved swiftly to correct the situation and put this mere pet firmly back in his place. “PADDINGTON!” I said in as firm a voice as a sage & onion stuffing filled mouth could muster, “Paddington, get down from there at once and go and eat your own dinner, you’ll find your bowl on yonder floor”. (Ok I probably didn’t actually use the word yonder but it seems like a very hero-esque word to use so bear with me).
My proclamation was greeted at first by silence, my fellow diners staring at me, seemingly almost holding their breaths in fear of what Lord Paddington might say. Then, slowly but surely, Small Dog moved his head forwards, glaring at me as he did so, a look of disdain on his furry face worthy of any sly villain. And as he glared and slowly opened his mouth as if ready to put forth his response there was a little intake of breath, followed by the sound of Paddington munching happily from the plate in front of him. Finally a voice piped in from the kitchen “sorry Matt, I’m afraid there’s only one sausage for you because I need to save the others for Paddington’s breakfast.”
I paused for a moment, contemplating just how Small Dog had manipulated this monumental rise to power and where exactly it left my status in the family rankings before Small Dog looked up once again from his feast, gazed knowingly at me and nodded over towards the bowl marked “dog”. Thanks Paddington for clearing that one up…
So with Christmas dinner approaching and enormous turkeys taller and (arguably) fatter than the Small Dog himself begin to turn up I wonder just how much of it he will be able to claim. My bet is that come December 26th Paddington will be a small dog no more.
