A Christmas Card

Dear friends and family and strangers on the internet,

Happy Merry! I’m a little rusty at holiday card-writing but I’ve been receiving so many lately that I thought I should take a stab at it. Haha, stab. Not so festive a word, is it? Well, except that knives are shiny. And, um, silver. Sometimes. They’re also cold? Okay, that’s settled, stab is a holiday word just like Die Hard is a Christmas movie. Stabby ki yay, motherfuckers!

The cards I get in the mail have adorable happy kids smiling at me on boats or skis or stages. I love these cards so much but since I don’t have kids or a boat or skis and I DO have an old cranky asshole of a dog, I guess I’ll tell you about him.

Hogan McSmalls had a good year. He started it out by sleeping and complaining and he’s ending it by sleeping and complaining. About a month into the year, he stole my favorite blanket and made it his own by covering it in his fur and stink. I steal it back from him every few weeks and throw it into the washing machine while making gagging noises but he manages to get it stinky again in just a few hours. He’s amazing! He’s also convinced Tim and I that he needs to be rolled in said blanket like a burrito every freaking night. We comply because he’s terrifying and we fear his wrath.

Don’t tell him I said this but he’s also gotten quite the big head because he thinks he “went viral” in April. I don’t have the heart to tell him that a few people retweeting a photo of him looking like a hippie is not going viral so we’ll just let him have this one. If you see him, don’t spill the beans. It’s so rare that something non-food-related brings him joy.

Speaking of food, Hogie is still obsessed with the hot dog bush. He hasn’t found any more hot dogs in it but he did find a video game controller and an empty bag of Cool Ranch Doritos so I guess it’s still flowering or whatever.

In past years, sweet cranky Hogan has eaten Keurigs and Vitamixes. He’s knocked screens out of windows, escaped from yards, climbed out onto roofs, and eaten cabinets just for funsies. This year, however, crazypants directed most of his energy into complaining about his healthy organic food until we were forced to start him on insanely expensive canned stuff. It has a strong scent – a combination of locker room, musty forest, and what I imagine a moose with bad personal hygiene would smell like. He loves it. I gag when I scoop it into his bowl but I’m getting used to gagging this year. I’ve grown as a person and as a gagger in 2018!

This year Hogie-butt also deigned to help me sell books with his sick posing skills. He’s quite the good model but his rates are high and he has a rider that makes Metallica’s seem tame. (He doesn’t get out of his burrito bed for anything less than twenty sexy Staffordshire Terriers and a tennis ball that smells exactly like an anxious gopher.) Oh well, small price to pay for fuzzy potato perfection!

All in all, it was a great year for Hogan McSmalls and for us as well. Hope your dogs (and cats and kids and partners and friends and neighbors and baristas and bartenders and psychics) had a great year too.

Sending you love and light and cocktails! A very Merry Happy to you and yours.

Love,

Kendra (and Hogie)

*photo of Hogie with his toy hot chocolate from his pal Honey.