Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the house, not a canine was stirring, not even a mouse. The dogs were all nestled asleep on their beds, while visions of food bowls danced in their heads. Their stockings were hung in the kennel with care, in hopes that some milk bones would soon be found there. Mama with her wine glass and I with my beer were enjoying a nightcap cause morning was near. The dogs rose before sunrise and started to bark, we loaded them up and off to the park. The moon on the crest of the new-fallen snow made it easy to find places for the dogs to go. We quickly picked poop with bags on our hands and promptly tossed it park supplied cans. Returning to home we found the old elf, he was filling the stockings alone by himself. We thought if we scared him he might disappear, and the dogs would not get their favorite pigs' ears. Laying a finger aside of his nose he said Merry Christmas and up the chimney, he rose. The dogs were all happy The End
