Many years ago, before I moved to Andover where Christmases were reliably cold and snowy, Toby the Lab and Little Bear the Newf ruled the roost (chickens, anyone?) at Elbow Pond Road. One year, as the Texas relatives and Maryland families arrived, full of treats, presents, and good cheer, a buzz went around, something about sausages. 

Niece Sara’s fiancée, James, had placed a special order with Kreuzes’, Texas’s best barbecue, to be delivered by New Year’s Eve. Sausages were on the way, and the major concern was that someone be home to receive the package before the dogs got to it.

Yes, the dogs. Besides Vick’s two, I brought Thumper, an outstanding golden retriever if ever there was one. His favorite goodies included apples, cheese, vegetables — basically any food that fell from the table. Since apple season was long past and the extended family had been instructed not to surreptitiously let drop any goodies, he was on the prowl. 

Somehow the word “sausages” insinuated itself through the ears and into the brains of all three dogs, and one could watch them sitting sentry atop snowplowed piles next to the driveway and by the front door, while humans kept an eye out through frosted windows. I believe the last instruction Vick gave me before she piled into the van with the others for a movie trip to Concord was, “And whatever you do, check for packages before you let the dogs out!”

Oh well, the best laid plans and all that certainly went astray. When the box arrived (I couldn’t smell any sausage) I dutifully stowed it in the garage since the fridge was filled — remember, this was when Christmases were cold and snowy — and then left to retrieve a book from a neighbor.
Being safety conscious, I locked the front door and the inside garage door, leaving the big garage doors open for the movie crew upon their return.

In the confusion of locked doors, the dogs were unknowingly let out (in an instance of divine canine intervention), and with everyone’s backs turned (only humans do that; dogs simply reverse their bodies), Toby, Little Bear, and Thumper discovered the package. The irate families, however, having later gotten notice of the delivery, discovered the package in bits and pieces, literally. 

A small scrap of box with the overnight delivery sticker was found half-buried in the snow, just about when Toby was heard to be moaning in a corner. One look at his distended belly and Little Bear’s frustration confirmed the worst. The wurst would have to wait for another Christmas!