Patches gave me his letter to Santa tonight...it read as follows...Dear Santa, I am the best dachshund on the planet, just ask me. The first thing I need you to do this year is to please get rid of that thing that lives behind the door that keeps meowing. Second, I have found I really, really, really love hard boiled eggs and so you need to send me a nice mom who not only cooks them but allows me to eat them (I am sure dad won’t mind, but make her a red head just in case) Third, could you please transform one of our rooms into a room with grass so I never have to go outside to poop again when it is cold. Thank you Santa and I will have mom leave you a hard boiled egg. Love, Patches.P. S. If the egg isn’t there when you get here, don’t worry, I probably fed it to that thing that lives behind the door to shut it up so I could get some sleep like a good dachshund. If my gas smells like hard boiled eggs that’s only because I am dreaming about what a great Santa you are for giving me a new mom, honest! Keep up the good…burp….work! Harold wrote a letter to Santa before he left for the coast and I found it stuck with the stack of bills I was to pay for the month. I had to decipher the writing, but it read as follows: Dear Santa: I grow closer in age to you with each passing year and even though Lindy keeps telling me the garage is full and I really don’t have room for another thing, I still have nine fingers I haven’t sliced off and plenty of wood left to carve. I heard they have mini-chainsaws now and that sounds like a wonderful thing to me. Santa, do you think a mini chainsaw makes mini cuts when it slips and gets skin rather than bone? Lindy might not mind putting a band aid on an accident rather than like before when it meant emergency surgery in Brownwood. If she told you I want games for the Wii, don’t believe her. I hate games; I hate sports; I hate all that male bonding stuff. If she told you I want any stuff like that she put that on my list so she could get more stuff for herself because she is the one who likes that kind of thing. I don’t want any clothes either because there isn’t any room on my floor right now. Santa, do you have a cell phone? If you do, could I have your number so I can call you when I clear enough room on my floor and have space for new clothes? Oh yeah, no perfume or cologne or whatever you call it. Why on earth do I need to smell good? I don’t ever see anyone but Lindy. We don’t have any friends and Peepers and Patches smell worse than I do whether I ever wear cologne or not so the way I figure it, that is just wasting money. There is one thing I could use some help with and that is my memory. I never have been much good at remembering people’s names. If you recall, I would go through the list of every child I had and finally just have to say to the kid standing in front of me…“You know who you are…now get to your room!“ Well, I wouldn’t mind if it was just names I forgot because I don’t really see anyone to forget who they are but now I am forgetting where I put things like the sandwich I made for lunch, the bottle of water I just opened and which garage I parked my truck in. It wouldn’t bother me much but the neighbors really hate it when they go to put their car away and see my truck sitting in their space. Lindy says that isn’t normal, so could you see about maybe finding something to give my memory a jolt? Wow Santa, you are going to have to come up with a few surprises this year because I just can’t think of stuff I want or need but that could just be my memory acting up again. Tell you what, just go to Home Depot, get a front end loader and fill up your sleigh, that ought to do it. Patches says he wants a new mom…you can try that at your own risk! Talk to you soon…if you survive. My letter to Santa this year is very simple…it would read something like this… Dear Santa: Would you please put this note in everyone’s stocking…thank you so much and I love you with all my heart. There are times in life we think others should feel the same way we do. That if we believe one way, all should believe as we do. Life is seldom reciprocal and while our mothers told us life wasn’t fair, even as adults we rarely want to believe it. In this season of giving...how about we all try to give each other the greatest gift one person can give another...the right to be exactly who they are. Even if you do not agree with your neighbor, see him as family and embrace not what he thinks but who he is and love him because he is! Merry Christmas the way it was meant to be! I love each of you with all of my heart! P.S. For those who have expressed concern, no husbands have been harmed in the writing of this column! It is always written in fun and with the full approval of all parties.