'Twas the Night Before Christmas (A Dachshund's Tail)
with sincere apologies to Clement Clarke Moore

Starring (in order of appearance): Peanut & Paul (aka grandpups), Santa Claws

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house,
the dachsies had shredded their favorite stuffed mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
that Peanut wouldn't get them (think Jordan, Air).

The grandpups were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of warm cookies danced in their heads.
And Erin in her nightgown, and I in my shorts,
had just settled in for some snuggling of sorts.

When all of a sudden there arose such a clatter,
could Paul have found some stray cookie batter?
Away to the crime scene I flew like a flash,
from Erin a caution "Don't do anything rash!"

The moon on the crest of the new fallen dough,
gave the lustre of midday to the object below.
When what to my wondering eyes should I sees,
but a miniature dachshund with eight tiny fleas.

A gorgeous red longhair; so lively, what paws!
I knew in a moment, it is Santa Claws!
More rapid than eagles his fleas they did park,
and he scratched and he sneezed, their names he did bark.

Now McVeigh! Now OJ! Now Saddam and Ozzie!
On Clinton! On Gingrich! On Rodman, Paparazzi!
To the top of my head! Your backs to the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So to the back porch the courses they flew,
with a sack full of goodies and Santa Claws too.

And then in a twinkling, I heard down the hall,
a scratching and whining accompanying it all.
As I drew down my head and was turning around,
to the fireplace Santa Claws came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his tail,
and his coat was all shiny and groomed without fail.
A bundle of chew toys he'd flung on his back,
and he looked like a burrow, though height he did lack.

His eyes - how they twinkled! His markings - crackerjack!
His jowls were like purses, his nose olive black.
His droll little muzzle was drawn up in a smile,
and the beard on his chin like a fine cashmere pile.

The stump of a biscuit he held tight in his teeth.
and the drool it encrusted his lips like a wreath.
He had a narrow face and a portly little belly,
that shook when he boofed like a bowl full of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old dachsie,
and I laughed when I saw him, all bluster and moxie
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He barked not a bark, but went straight to his work,
and filled grandpups stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying a paw across his proud breast,
and giving a nod out the doggie door egressed.

He sprang on his haunches, to his fleas gave a woof,
and away they all scooted, snow flakes from a roof.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he trotted out of sight,
"Merry Christmas all puppies, and to all a good night!!"

Santa Claws et al
(Artist's Rendition)

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