December 6, 2000

Santa turns dog into scaredy-cat

      Taking a two-year-old to see Santa is one of those holiday traditions that can be completely delightful or utterly terrifying -sometimes both. This is especially true when your 68 pound two-year-old has a happy bladder and a submissive tail tucked between her legs.
      Whether they are cutting-teeth toddlers or fang-tooth canines, getting either one to sit on Santa's lap makes for a memorable, if not traumatic experience. Capturing the moment on film depends on how strong-willed the parents are and the upper body strength of old St. Nick.
      Last Sunday my wife and I took our golden retriever to see Santa at the Cherryland Humane Society in Traverse City. As part of the animal shelter's holiday open house, all creatures great and small have their Polaroid picture taken with "Santa Paws" for a mere $5 donation. Considering that Corky is 14 (in dog years), I figured she might be too sullen, apathetic or angst-ridden to sit on Santa's lap. I forgot one thing - she's a dog.
      Unfortunately, I was not the only delusional human about this whole sojourn to see Santa Paws. For nearly 45 minutes, my wife brushed tangled tail hair, trimmed excessive ear fur and sprayed offending bodily odors with doggie deodorant. While our pooch looked picture perfect, what developed over the next hour would hardly be suitable for framing.
      Now if wearing a Christmas theme collar wasn't enough, the Yuletide bar of expectations was raised with the following 'Tiny Tim' letter:
      Dear Santa Paws,
      Hello, my name is Corky. I am two years old. My mommy and daddy said I'm a really good girl and that If I write you a note, I just might get something in my stocking this year! Here is my list:
      • squeaky toys
      • peanut butter bones
      • unlimited supply of belly rubs
      • a cat (my vet said I need more exercise and the cat would be fun to chase. I promise I won't eat it)
      Thank you Santa Paws,
      xo xo, Corky
      Looking at these words, all I could envision was a pack of Doberman pinschers getting a hold of Corky's letter and yucking it up like hyenas as they shredded it to bits. Luckily, the only real threat while waiting to see Santa Paws was the excessive drool dripping down the chin of the Labrador behind us.
      Then came our big moment with the big guy in the red suit. Big mistake. Never before has there been a canine more aptly called a scaredy-cat. After much verbal coaching, several Milkbone treats and an Eeyore squeaky toy, Corky finally sat next to Santa Paws. However, 1600 speed film could not have captured this dog as she sprang from Santa's side before the click of the camera shutter.
      Resembling both an opossum and a Roman army tortoise shield maneuver, Corky balled herself up by the exit door. Only a spoonful of peanut butter held by a sprawled out Santa Paws coaxed her out of this defensive posture. Which is exactly the Polaroid picture adoring our refrigerator: Santa holding spoon, dog licking it.
      While I'm not a parent, I imagine taking a kid to see Santa is similar to taking your pet. Before leaving the house, you pick out obvious eye boogers, fix their coat and spray offending bodily odors. While waiting in line you try to keep the panting to a minimum and hope the little guy behind you isn't a biter. Once the big moment arrives, you silently hope for the following: don't pee on Santa's lap, pull on his beard or howl in his ear.
      For those parents observing the time-honored holiday tradition of taking their two-year-old to see Santa, I have a few sagely words of advice - watch out for happy bladders and pack plenty of peanut butter.
      Grand Traverse Herald editor Garret Leiva can be reached at 933-1416 or e-mail gleiva@gtherald.com.