All Good Doggies go to Heaven

Dear North,

I took the week between Christmas and New Years off this year, which is a first. It's been a wonderful time, especially with you so little and so tuned into the magic of the season.

After we spent some time down by the creek today, we were walking our way back up the steep hill. Your little legs quickly tired out and you asked to be carried. I couldn't accommodate considering the mud caked onto your crocs and the items I was already carrying. But I gave you the same manta I often tell myself on the way back up the hill dragging a load of yard waste behind me when I feel like I can't take another step.

"Mommy can't pick you up right now, but let's just keep walking to the smiling tree right there." I told you.

You seemed content with that and kept on step by step until we made our way to the almost redwood sized tree that sprouts out of the forest bed and towers high above our house. A few years back, as your dad and I hacked our way back through the vines and weeds to gain access to the creek below, we took some odds and ends pieces of wood and nailed them to the huge tree trunk in the shape of a smiley face. It's been a halfway resting point between the house and creek ever since. When our dog, Jake, passed we decided the smiling tree was a fitting place to lay him for eternity.

I mentioned how I wanted to put a bench to mark the spot, since it always seemed we stopped right there to catch our breath and visit Jake's grave.

"Do you remember Jake, the big white doggy?" I asked.

"Yes," you confirmed in your high pitched voice I wish I could bottle up forever. "Where Jake go?" you asked looking around.

"He's under the ground now, but we can still say hi to him here whenever you want." I attempted to explain without getting into the morbid subject of death.

"Here mommy, hold stick," you ordered and I obliged taking your walking stick from you to free up both your hands.

"What are you doing?"

"I find Jake!" you squealed with determination as you kicked fallen leaves out of the way to reveal the puppy you thought was hiding beneath.

Oh North, I wish it was that easy.

Merry Christmas!

I'm not complaining that it's 65 degrees as I write this, but it makes dreaming of a white Christmas more of a reality this year. Let's hope it happens! And then let's hope it melts quickly the next day.

I want to point out the I do not always look quite so pink as I do in this photo. Truth be told, I had applied a Pepto Bismol mask to my face a few hours before this photo was taken. I had been making Christmas crafts and decided to watch Dr. Oz at the same time. I had never watched the show before, but got sucked in by the "Beauty Tips You Can Find in Your Pantry" theme for the day. The Pepto Bismol mask was his breakthrough fix for dull skin.

I said to myself, "My skin feels dull. I fell dull. I have pepto in the house. LET'S DO THIS!"

I gave it a whirl and thought it felt tingly. But it wasn't until this card was photochopped and I was able to compare my skin tone to that of a normal elf, when I realized to Dr. Oz, having nice skin means making it pink. So there you have it, do not apply Pepto Bismol to your face. Merry Christmas!