The Night Before Emesis: A Tail About Man's Best Friend

My family has this one dog. She's sweet but she's, uh, "special". She's quite the wild woman so when she was younger we trained her to follow a laser so that she would come back inside the house. Now she'll stare at the ceiling or walls for hours just waiting for that little red dot to show up. It's so bad that you can't even use tin foil because she barks at the reflection on the ceiling.

Last Christmas she was sleeping in bed with me and at some point became very ill. I imagine it was because she ate a decaying animal of some sorts. While I was rudely awakened from my slumber I wrote a quick poem. Clement Clarke Moore wrote The Night Before Christmas on Christmas Eve 1822. 191 years later I gift you....

Twas' the night before Christmas, I laid down with delight.

Having just returned from mass, oh, what a sight!

I dreamed of fairies, and pixies, gum drops, and more!

I ran earlier that day, so my legs were quite sore.

All curled up beside me, on top of my bed,

Laid DeeDee, whom was simple; not much in her head.

Four legged creatures, I have always preferred.

Even when they leave me "presents" that are just nasty turds.

In a deep, deep, slumber; laying there I slept.

DeeDee couldn't help it, she retched and she retched.

She barfed on the bed, she barfed on the floor.

She likes to give me kisses; Never more!

She barfed so much and so very loud,

I was awoken at just those awful sounds.

She puked on my pillow, just missing my face.

She retched so much, my shoes were not safe!

As I clean up this vomit, this puke, this barf from my dear,

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good year!