John R Purcell

The Christmas presents, which my wife had carefully wrapped and labeled for
all the relatives,were piled neatly on the floor of the dining room. They were going to be taken to a
daughter's house on Christmas morning for the traditional opening of the gifts and Christmas dinner.
Since pet dogs and cats are also members of our families, of course there must be gifts for them and so there were toys and treats for each of the pets.

The morning of the day before Christmas, I was sitting in the living room reading the newspaper when I heard a scream of horror from my wife in the dining room.

"Oh! what happened here?" she shouted.

Screams of horror over trivial incidents are very common from my wife and I have learned from experince that they usually turn out to be of little concern.

"What's the matter?" I asked calmly.

"Look!", she replied," Abby opened her Christmas present!".

Abby, our bloved Beagle, had indeed sniffed out her own present in the pile and had torn off the wrapping to uncover a fuzzy toy slipper which had a pocket in which a couple of doggie cookies had been hidden. I was not surprised that she had sniffed out the cookies but I did not know that she could read her name on the card to know the gift was for her.

Someone should have told her that presents are not to be opened until Christmas day.