It’s not as adversarial as it sounds, but Lewis’ interaction with the annual jolly visitor is a tad less than jolly.  Lewis’ first Christmas in an admittedly over-decorated house resulted in some very guttural, primal reactions by the big white fellow to the jolly old red fellow.  In the foyer, up on a second story ledge stands one of seven Christmas trees in the house (yes, I know).  Accompanying that tree is a medium-size Santa, staring down at the foyer below.  This red-coated creature peering down from above did not sit well with Lewis, who launched into a barking frenzy previously unmatched by Mr. Not in My House.

Over the course of that first Christmas encounter, Lewis gradually accepted an uneasy truce with the bearded stranger.  Granted that truce came through Lewis’ avoidance of the general area of the foyer where “it” stared at him 24 hours a day, but a truce nonetheless.

Problem solved?  Uh, no.  The next Christmas rolled around, and the big fellow (Santa, not Lewis) came out of his year-long hiding place much to the dismay of the big fellow (Lewis, not Santa).  What made the situation even worse is that Lewis caught Santa at the staging area getting ready for formal placement – meaning, horrors, an eye-level, face-to-face encounter of the howling kind.  One would have thought that an invading army had made its way into the living room.  Howling like a banshee, Lewis assumed the position and was giving no quarter to his old nemesis.  Only intervention from above (me on a ladder) saved Santa from certain demise.

Christmas this year has been somewhat subdued as far as territorial battles between the two big fellows…or so I thought.  Instead, Lewis has moved to more clandestine tactics.  Apparently, while waiting patiently in the decoration staging area, Santa mysteriously disappeared.

At this point it would provide much needed context to reveal that Lewis is a hole-digging dog.  He doesn’t just chase tennis balls, he buries them.  Ditto with toys, sticks, even long sticks.  He calculates the size of the object then digs accordingly.  With long sticks, he even digs trenches.  Suffice to say, if something is missing, it’s buried somewhere in the backyard.

Panic set in when Santa went missing along with Lewis.  An end run through the dining room is the only thing that saved Santa from a dirt nap.  Upon turning the corner, there stood Lewis with Santa in hand, rather in mouth. I swear the look on his face was something akin to “What.”  Thus, Santa was saved once more, ready to decorate another day.  And the truce continues.

There’s only one problem.  Lewis has discovered the reindeer!

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good….bite!