The car was finally packed and early in the afternoon the four ones left the black hole and headed for the wilds of God’s county.
The road toward the holiday home for dogs was more like a rollercoaster . . .
Arriving safely we wished our two bitch faces a very Merry Christmas and were dispirited when the two ones didn’t really care one way or the other, alright then girls of you go, and they did, barking at the other guests and biting at one another and we left too towards the town on the hill.
Tired and slightly drunk we slept only to be woken by a knock at the door followed by the bell brrringing may be two, three times. moo moo tells me to wake, that gene has forgotten his keys or something. Peering through the keyhole a man has slipped outside and lies face down on the pavement, bright blood melts the frozen ground beneath his head. We try to help but are of no use, only to those who have gathered . . .
The ambulance takes him and his broken nose to hokspittal and we feel sorry for Eamonn and his lonely yuletide.
. . . and i look out the front room window and the snow falls and it feels like Winter at last.