I regret to inform you that for the most part, the dogs are not going to have a lot to do with this story, but I felt like sharing it anyway, so here it goes. I love the season of Christmas, but I also find it completely exhausting. My parents have been divorced since I was seven years old, so having two of every holiday became commonplace for me as I grew up. When you're a kid, having two Christmases and birthdays is a pretty good deal.
This year the plan was that we'd meet at my dad's house and then go over to the city and see True Grit. We met early, knowing that with the possibility of a lot more snow falling that day that it could possibly take us up to an hour to reach the theatre. As it turned out, it didn't start snowing too hard until we'd gotten almost to the theatre. We arrived and found out that the movie time had been changed and we were an hour early. I might mention at this point that my sister had gone to work out early that morning and had taken something to help her get motivated for working out that is the equivalent of six cans of soda. She was like The Hulk, just waiting to go postal on someone. We purchased our tickets and then went next door to pick up a gift certificate for a last minute attender to Mr. Taleteller's family get together that we needed. That took all of ten minutes. Then, my dad got a bright idea.
My stepgrandmother lives about five minutes from the movie theatre. It turns out that a deer had been struck by a car near her house and had died in her yard. She had planned to call someone to move the deer when she, my dad and stepmom all returned from the trip they're taking to visit my stepbrothers and their families in California. However, she's one of those worrier types. My dad had visions of her driving my stepmom insane with her worrying the entire trip about getting the dead deer out of her yard. Apparently the road commision will move it if it's by the road, but not if it's too far away. My dad figured it was just across the ditch and just needed to be moved by the road to be picked up. He surveyed the passengers of the car and surmised that it would be an easy task to drag this dead deer to the road. Nobody was consulted in this plan of his, he just told my stepmom to make a call and see if it had been moved yet. It had not.
Suddenly, I was glad I'd dressed up a bit for Christmas Eve. My red wool coat and white gloves were not suited to moving deer carcasses, and there is no way my dad would ever ask my stepmom to do such a task. That left Mr. Taleteller, my dad and my sister still amped up on workout juice to move the deer. We arrived at Stepgranny's house and saw no deer. This did not bode well in my mind. Dad parked the vehicle and we all got out and walked around the house.
A giant deer with a badly fractured leg lay fifty yards or so from the road, across from a rather steep ditch. It had been dead a couple of days and coyotes had started working on the head. Apparently Rudolph's nose is highly coveted by coyotes. It was a gruesome sight for sure. The three of them began dragging it towards the road and I just had to walk away. Mr. Taleteller launched into a spontaneous rendition of "Grandma Ran Over Santa's Reindeer." My sister was definitely the smallest member of the group, but darned if she wasn't in the lead for dragging that dead deer. Finally, those energy powders were good for something. I don't think the ditch even phased her, although I thought my husband was about to take a header at that point.
Ten minutes from when they started, the task was done. We all loaded back into the car and headed back to the movie theatre to watch True Grit. The movie finished and we stopped at a local restaurant for dinner where it appeared that they'd forgotten to turn on the heat. We sat bundled up in our coats eating our salads and pasta. I felt like we might be in some sort of reality sitcom yet again. It was definitely a Christmas Eve to remember!
Sometimes I think it really might be better if we were orphans who got to spend Christmas at home alone with our dogs. Fortunately, when we got home, they were still as glad to see us as always. Morgan has a newfound interest in Mr. Taleteller's gloves, which I fear we'll have to hide from her for all time. The dogs were nice enough to share the couch with us and watch Christmas Vacation with us while we wrapped presents for Christmas morning.
So how did you spend Christmas Eve? I'm betting nobody else gets to say they spent it hauling a dead deer. I feel so special!
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Posted by houndstooth at 12:00 AM
Labels: Christmas Eve, funny things, it could only happen to us, stories that make you glad to be home with your dogs