'Twas Three Weeks Before Christmas

'Twas Three Weeks Before Christmas and within our fine house,
I looked all around and remarked to my spouse
Shouldn't a house, at this time of December
Have a lit tree that we all will remember?

Out to the car he went in a hurry,
Eyebrows both raised, and his face full of worry.
Seems that our storage place, so he'd been told
Had been victim to rats, moths, ants, rot, and mold.



Sure enough, the treetop angel'd been mauled.
Thanks to the rodents, the poor thing was bald.
As for the strings of the gold twinkling lights?
Their cords were all covered with tiny rat bites.

Santa was missing his hat and his beard
And of the eight reindeer, at least six looked weird.
Frosty was missing his wee Meerschaum pipe
And his poor back was sporting a suspicious stripe.



All of our treasures and tree-topping splendors
Looked like they'd been maimed by overwrought blenders.
Each little elf we'd collected each year
Now, like VanGogh, was each missing one ear.

How could the holidays be celebrated
Now that our ornaments were desecrated?
Those angels we heard on high would be waylaid
And merry gentlemen would be dismayed!



What would we do with our sad decoration?
Throwing the towel in was a temptation.
How to be festive without our decor
Left us all mulling our woes on the floor.



All our cats stopped by, along with the dog
Who quickly reacted to our depressed fog.
Seeing our sadness and woeful demeanor
He ran off and fetched us his best squeaky wiener.

He then brought his Kong toy, aglow with dog spit,
And his fleecy giraffe and his plushie Brad Pitt,
His greenies and frisbee and best NylaBone,
All heavily scented with doggie cologne.



He brought out his Bobalot and plush Lambchop
(Which was covered in dust and used as a doorstop.)
He brought us his rope and his football for bowser,
Swiped at the dog park from an aging Schnauzer.

Next came his tennis ball, chewed to a flap
Which he gave a last nip and then dropped in my lap.
Some milk bones, a corn cob, a pig's ear half-chewed
And an old chewie postman who'd been chewed half-nude.



Not to be outdone, the cats then insisted
On bringing us toys that had long been black-listed.
Out came their treasures: the pink catnip mouse,
And each jingly ball we'd thought lost in the house,

The feather that dangled from a bamboo stick,
The old Easter bunny and old Easter chick,
The soiled ping-pong balls and the rat that went "squeak,"
And the soft snuggly bed with the soft snuggly leak.



And so, all these toys from the cats and the dog
We hung on the tree as we burned a Yule log.
The chew-up, the drooled on, the past sell-by dated
Were our decorations, and thus it was fated.

As for the icicles, dogs just don't care.
So instead of tinsel we used some dog hair.
The tree stood before us, adorned and unique
Though not one you'd see in a classy boutique.



Then laying a paw, aside of his nose,
The dog circled twice and started to doze.
But the cats all exclaimed (as they gave him a bite),
"Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night!"




If you want a bracelet for your Christmas treasure,
Please come and bid and bid more, at your leisure.