Dog party.

As a child, my favorite book was Go, Dog. Go! I loved seeing the dogs with hats, with skis, in houses, under houses, on top of houses, and in a big party on top of a giant tree. I shouldn’t really write about it in past tense, because it continues to be one of the books I always turn to for comfort and fun. New babies get copies of it in board book form and reading it aloud to toddlers makes me laugh. Despite its length, it somehow manages to hold the attention of nearly everyone. It has an influence that remains, beyond awareness. When I see a child put something random on their head and say, “Do you like my hat?”, I smile, enjoying the immortality they’re unknowingly giving to P. D. Eastman. Tonight, our Christmas tree is on top of a dog crate, about three feet above the ground, marginally safer from the puppy wrestling matches to come. At some point in the upcoming week, a dog will likely nap in the crate below the lit tree, and Go, Dog. Go! will come to life. I’m not sure I’ve ever liked our tree more. We intentionally tried to incorporate the work I love, being an animal caregiver, with decorating, not forfeiting either for the other. The traditions that hold us to the present are important, but so is being able to enjoy them. I can already feel myself enjoying this and that’s a wonderful thing.