Suzy Says

If I ran the world, Santa would look just like this.

As I drove to my friend’s house on Christmas Eve, I was filled with anxiety and apprehension. I soon learned that I should have paid more attention to this internal warning system.

After the long, rainy drive (though uneventful, with no mistaken OnStar calls this year), I arrived at my friend’s 120 year old apartment. Here’s where things started to get eventful, as she explained the vagaries of the ancient plumbing to me (“There’s a big stick by the toilet, in case you need to break things up so they’ll flush”), which almost sent Rita and me back to the car in horror.

Friend also is the owner of Dreadful Dog, a yappy, furry bolster of a dog disliked by everyone who knows him. People who can’t agree on any other topic under the sun all agree that Dreadful Dog is, in fact, dreadful. If he isn’t barking his high-pitched bark, he’s whining, which his deluded owner describes as “purring”. Among his other irritating features is his complete refusal to come when he’s called, which can be a problem if, for example, he runs across the road to annoy two stranger dogs. On that occasion, when I approached him with his leash, he kept backing away.

I thought of an alternative use for the big ol’ toilet stick.

You can imagine Rita’s horror at being bracketed with this creature. It’s like when your parents take you to visit friends of theirs and you have to play with their loser kid, who normally has to bribe people with toys to play with him. You can’t believe it, but you’re stuck with it. Also the grown-ups can’t seem to tell that there’s a huge difference between you and him.

Rita and I were mortified at being seen in public with Dreadful Dog, at least twice a day.

Awoke from fitful sleep on Christmas Day to learn that the great James Brown had died earlier that morning. A day that kicks off with James Brown kicking off is not going to be a good one.

Friend’s daughter has Christmas dinner at her elegant house every year. She is a wonderful cook (she even caters occasionally), and her house is always decorated perfectly. On the other hand, she also has an antisocial creep of a boyfriend who now lives with her. He threw a fit that would have embarrassed a four year old after we dared to visit for three hours on Christmas Eve, along with her friends and family. He kept her up all night with his theatrics, and then vanished to the basement on Christmas morning, leaving her to make dinner for ten people, all of whom were well aware of this drama and the many which had preceded it.

Unfortunately, he emerged to eat dinner and open gifts, which led to a complete pall over the proceedings and an almost total lack of conversation, since nothing anyone was thinking could be said out loud. Personally, I was thinking, “Heave ho, heave ho, it’s to the curb you go!”

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I called my brother and sister and learned that Jed the Wonder Dog is sick. Think good thoughts for her. Being without her is unthinkable.