Christmas Eve

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I got to thinking about one of my favorite childhood beliefs. Somewhere, sometime, somehow, I was told that at midnight on Christmas Eve, animals can speak. (I mean our languages not theirs.). I not only believed, I wanted to have a conversation.

I remember asking my mom about our pets. I got her usual eye roll and snort,
“They do not speak. Go to bed.”

I tried dad.
“I want to talk to Ophelia, (my guinea pig), at midnight. You have to get me up in time to hear her.”
Dad, who always sort of understood about such stuff, said:
“Sweetheart, I can’t get you up because you might run into Santa. I’ll talk to her for you. Go to bed now.”

Thus assured, off to bed I went.

In the morning, I asked dad what Ophelia said.
“She said Merry Christmas and then fell back asleep.”

Mom rolled her eyes and snorted.

A couple of years ago, after a couple of eggnogs, I prodded my dachshunds awake at midnight.
“Merry Christmas!”

They rolled their eyes and snorted.

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Have a magical holiday everyone!

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