I sniffed at the treat once and walked on.  It was pumpkin flavored instead of the more delicious milk or chicken based treats that I like best.  It was part of why I hated the winter. Just because humans went crazy over Pumpkin Spice Lattes, Candles, and Pancakes didn’t mean that us dogs would too. On the other hand, the Turducken was the best culinary creation since Thanksgiving dinner.

                The kid’s books smelled delightful. The sticky fingers of children always held wondrous tastes and certainly the shiny covers had some residue left. Instead I was yanked away, my Uncletugging me toward the what could only be the fiction section full of it’s smell of mold and mustiness. Non-fiction always smelled of bleach. The history books always smelled of lies.

                I whined and cried in protest to no avail. It actually got me into trouble. I just wanted to either lick the kid’s books or go outside and run around. Wasn’t that why I had my horse blanket on anyways?  But no. I was commanded to sit and lie down, over and over again as my uncle perused the books literally one by one. We spent nearly two hours this way. Occasionally another human would come by and I would try to ask to be petted. I wasn’t very fond of getting attention from strangers, they tug on your ears, touch your whiskers, and pull on your tail; but, I wasn’t getting it from Bill.

                Don’t get me wrong now, Bill isn’t a Grinch. Though I would catch him of his guard, he would pull me away from people I was trying to say hi to in the store. If the other human was into it, he wouldn’t hold me back as much. But then there was this girl and Bill wasn’t paying attention. Of course I took advantage of the situation; look, when you see the carcass of the craved turkey on the counter and no one looking you don’t simply leave it there untouched.

                She pet me and didn’t cringe when I licked her. She knew that the best places are behind the ears and the top of the hips. And Bill didn’t hold me back. She really started to play with me and I started to nip at her hands like I do—too much wrestling when I was younger, I blame Bill. They were talking too and then all of a sudden I was shoved out of the spotlight. They were standing and passing books between each other. I could tell that Bill liked her by the way he talked to her.