First stop: the most forlorn thrift shop on the Oregon Coast. I would unforlorn it with my Christmas cheer and unforlorn wasn’t even a word. It would be after this encounter.<\/p>\n
I walked in and nearly drowned in dankness. I didn’t see a single Christmas decoration for sale or decorating the shop and ached for the best schmaltz in music.<\/p>\n
A female clerk appeared from the back. I asked if she had any decorations. She pointed me to a metal shelf near a grimy window and I went over to inspect. The pickens were slim and depressing. Humbug hanged in the air.<\/p>\n
I chose the most forlorn decorations: faded crepe paper stars, four cracked tiny balls, and a tiny hand-held pencil sharpener that wasn’t even a decoration but somehow qualified as one because here it was.<\/p>\n
My meager selections fit in the palm of my hand and I brought them to the counter. I asked how much and the clerk said four bucks. Four bucks! I said I’d give her two and she agreed. I told her I was going to decorate a tree near a river and hold a Christmas party for two old dogs.<\/p>\n
She hesitated.<\/p>\n
\u201cI love dogs,\u201d she said. \u201cHave a great time.\u201d<\/p>\n
She was smiling as I left and I knew she was one of those people who hung (and filled) stockings for their dogs, and wrapped them presents, like I had.<\/p>\n
Next stop: a convenience store for dog presents: made-in-Oregon beef jerky by a family-run company. Made in Tillamook County on the Oregon Coast. I chose two packages of slab beef jerky, old fashioned recipe. It was the first jerky I had ever purchased in my life. I decided not to call it jerky, which is hardly a festive word. Rather it would be called \u201croast beast\u201d after the main dish served at the Whoville Christmas feast. The Grinch had carved it up to perfection and fed a slice to Max.<\/p>\n
Last stop: the dog sanctuary.<\/p>\n
I heard the canine cacophony even before I turned off the car’s engine. I got out and donned the pea coat over my Christmas sweater, a snowflake Pendleton stitched and sewn by women in Oregon over half a century ago. I stuffed the jerky deep into the recesses of the pea coat’s pocket because I knew Clyde would savage the wool if he caught a whiff. The decorations and other loot got stashed in a tote bag that I slung over my shoulder.<\/p>\n
Christmas party, here we come! Partay<\/i> on the river with dogs!<\/p>\n
Sunshine blasted the landscape as we walked through the pasture and I could hear birds chirping down by the river. Walking is the wrong word. I was kicking up my heels and making merry with Bonnie and Clyde, singing, improbably, Bing Crosby’s \u201cChristmas in Killarney.\u201d<\/p>\n
How grand it feels to click your heels<\/span> We reached Christmas tree and the beer can still stood upright on a branch. I pulled out the decorations and went to work while Bonnie and Clyde nosed around. I hung the balls and pencil sharpener. I draped the crepe paper. I considered fording the river and retrieving the red bra for a garland, but decided otherwise. I rustled up a few beaver sticks and placed them on some branches.<\/p>\n Where was that damn Christmas beaver!<\/p>\n There is a simple reason no one uses Sitka Spruces for Christmas trees; decorating them can draw blood. And in fact, the sharp needles drew blood on my fingers and a droplet found its way on the branch. \u201cBlood on the Christmas Tree\u201d\u2014sounds like a helluva good country Christmas song Johnny Paycheck or Jerry Jeff Walker might have written.<\/p>\n I stepped back from the tree for a look\u2014not bad. Lopsided and goofy. I’d take it. It would be the only Christmas tree I would decorate.<\/p>\n My bloody hand extricated the roast beast. I unwrapped it and called for Bonnie and Clyde. I gathered them near the tree and fed them them the roast beast. I sat down on the grass and wrapped my arms around the dogs. \u201cMerry Christmas you roast beast hounds!\u201d I said. They licked my face at the same time and I started crying and laughing at the same time.<\/p>\n (If you found this post enjoyable, thought provoking or enlightening, please consider supporting a writer at work by making a financial contribution to this blog or by purchasing an NSP book.) <\/i><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" First stop: the most forlorn thrift shop on the Oregon Coast. I would unforlorn it with my Christmas cheer and unforlorn wasn’t even a word. It would be after this encounter. I walked in and nearly drowned in dankness. I didn’t see a single Christmas decoration for sale or decorating the shop and ached for […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3465,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[203,5],"tags":[204,507,510,206,40,13,381],"class_list":["post-3464","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-bonnie-and-clyde-files","category-meditations","tag-bonnie-and-clyde","tag-dog-christmas-party","tag-dog-christmas-story","tag-dog-sanctuary","tag-dogs","tag-oregon-coast","tag-senior-dogs","has-post-title","has-post-date","has-post-category","has-post-tag","has-post-comment","has-post-author",""],"builder_content":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3464","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3464"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3464\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3466,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3464\/revisions\/3466"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3465"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3464"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3464"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3464"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nAnd join in the fun of the jigs and reels<\/span> <\/i><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n