I give him my bestnoooo, I want to go hooooomelook.
He gives me back a look that I don’t see very often on my boy human.
It’s a look ofplease give me five more minutes.
Weird.
My boy human never asks me for five more minutes.
He’s the chillest boy pet ever.
Maybe I’m reading this wrong.
Maybe this is a cry for help.
It’s my time to shine. It’s my time to save my boy pet.
I eye the big red pet.
He shakes his belly. “Amanda Anderson! I hear you’ve been averygood girl this year,ho ho ho! And look at this ... I have a special presentjust for you.”
I growl low in my throat.
No onegives my girl petspecial presents.
“Down, Chili,” my boy pet murmurs. “It’s okay.”
It’snotokay.
The big red pet who smells like he eats the blood of chickens by the light of the full moon is holding out a package to my girl pet and it could be poison.
It could be a dead rat.
It could be one of those things that springs out confetti when you open it, which is the scariest fucking thing in the entire world.
Even scarier than having to exercise.
Shudder.
“Aw, Santa, you shouldn’t have,” my girl pet says.
I growl again.
“Whoa, boy, it’s okay,” my aunt Lorelei pet says as she joins us and squats beside me.
No.
No.
The big red pet will take down the whole family.
I have to stop him.
My girl pet is opening the present.
It’s now or never.
Has to be now.
