You may recall that I have recently had my sister's 14-month old puppy at my place.

What you may not know is that the first two weeks of December here in Maine have been decidedly colder than average and we've had a snow cover for a while now.   Put those things together and you'll understand that I've been bringing the dog out on a leash, sometimes in the early morning hours.   I don't know if the puppy taught my 17 year old cat or the cat taught the puppy that while I might be able to ignore one of them if they wake me up at 2:30 AM,  I can't ignore both of them and the consequences of not bringing the pup out is more than I would probably be willing to risk.   So I've been out many nights in the bitter cold sometimes with the wind ripping through my clothes as I wait for the puppy to find exactly the right spot and moment to take a dump.    And in the meantime she has to push her fluffy muzzle into the snow to find the mice she imagines are there and to pull me around   to check out every leaf she sees in the pale moonlight as well as every place she'd found suitable over the past week.   

One of the unanticipated consequences is that my ever louder repetitions of her name to call her distracted attention to the business at hand has reminded me in rhythm and sound of Dave Saville trying to get Alvin the chipmunk's attention so his trio of chipmunks can sing the song.   And once that similarity occurs to you,  the whole repertoire of chipmunk songs I imbibed unintentionally as I heard them on the scratchy old AM tube radios of the late 1950s and early 1960s replays.   I swear I hear them as clearly as possible with static,  over and over again as my eyes roll even shut and I try to fall back asleep.   

I'm sparing you a youtube.  I've probably said too much, already.  

So, it's been that kind of run up to Christmas.   It's too bad the puppy doesn't have that memory because she would love to chase chipmunks.   I'm told she goes wild when she sees animals on TV,  I don't own one so she missed that experience while she was with me. 

The old cat is  still waking me up most nights.  Unfortunately she's well beyond mousing because it's been a really good year for mice and my live traps have caught dozens of them, I release them as soon as I get up.  I don't know why they're coming here, every bit of food I've got is safely sealed up in glass jars and closed coolers so they're not finding anything to eat.   I feel extremely guilty about having to set them free in the snowy landscape, though my brother points out the ones he catches are dead.   They can't tell me which they'd prefer.  

So what's the point of this?   It's just an animal and ear worm post with a seasonal slant.  That's all.