Our dog Sadie has a thing about light. When the sun on a watch dial sends light glimmers dancing across the wall, Sadie jumps for it. We call the game “Kill Tinkerbell,” and it has afforded us a lot of cheap entertainment.
Well, last week, our daughter hung the St. Nicholas stockings and plugged in flashing white lights across the mantle, giving a merry glow to the living room.
At 11:30 p.m., Sadie woke me up with her, Danger! Danger! Danger! bark. She can’t sleep when there’s Danger! and so she would come upstairs — “Bark! Bark! Bark!”– and try to lie down, but it was TOO DANGEROUS!, and so she would get up again. The only way to calm her down at times like this is to go and see what the problem is.
I followed her through the kitchen, and she looked around the doorway into the living room, every nerve trembling. “TINKERBELL IS BACK! AND SHE’S BROUGHT TINKERRAMBO!”
I had to unplug the lights so that Sadie could go to sleep.
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