and the house was a mess
Not a Boston was stirring, not even Chance.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes they were high enough to be safe there.
While visions of liver treats danced in their heads.
And Mama in her sweatpants and me in my shorts,
Had just settled down to give holiday damage reports.
I yelled from the couch "What the heck is the matter!"
And away in the kitchen I heard such a crash,
I knew that the beasts were into the trash.
But three Boston Terriers dressed like little reindeer.
They jumped up in my lap, all wild and deranged,
And I knew in an instant my plans had just changed.
As I shouted at Oreo, Mitsy, and Chance by name.
And so up to the couch top the Bostons soon flew,
With a bunch of chewed kleenex that stuck to them like glue.
Playfully taunting me as they ran round and round.
They made not a sound but went straight to their work,
And shredded the stockings, then turned with a smirk.
But away they all flew as fast as a missile.
Each grabbed a toy and shook it to and fro,
Then giving a snort, under the blanket they did go.
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.