Santa shouldn’t wear gloves
Now that Black Friday has passed, and the full Christmas shopping season is upon us, it’s time for the visits with the store Santa. Our kids are past that happy point in all our lives, but the willing victim today was the dog. Sometimes, things just don’t follow the script.
In search of another rubber chicken, our comedy team coach had decided to visit a new pet store that has opened halfway between the police station and Broue-Bouffe (our local version of Hooters or so I’ve been told). Since somebody is allowing the dogs to roam the store and get their picture taken with the fellow in the red suit, it follows that OUR dog must join in the fun.
Now, I wasn’t there (cooking a huge pot of stew takes priority, in my book). However, it seems that all was going well until the “setup” for a photo took a little longer than expected, and someone short of patience decided to show her teeth. Santa shouldn’t wear gloves. Or, maybe he should; the kind seen in those documentaries of people working in the fish plant, filleting like their lives depended on the speed of the slice. You know, chain mail instead of email.
Anyhow, a quick substitution was required, and our comedy coach now doubles as Santa, just like at home. I don’t look nearly as good in red. The picture will follow, and I’m told that it was a nice camera. Brand not noticed. True proof I wasn’t there.
In other important news, the Vanier Cup will arrive in Quebec City sometime tomorrow. Saskatoon was cold; the field was slippery, and the Rouge Et Or came prepared. End of another remarkable season.
