BABY JESUS
AND THE CHAINSAW

BABY JESUS AND THE CHAINSAW
by Lexiann Grant
I have discovered that there are two essential tools for enjoying holiday preparations: the first is an active pack of dogs and the second is a chainsaw. Also handy are a tape measure and pocket calculator, for confirming measurement failures. Garbage bags are handy too. A sense of humor and readiness to cherish the moment are necessary. Here's how it works...   

As I awoke one December morning and saw snow in the air and on the ground, I knew this was the day to purchase my Christmas tree. I skipped putting on make-up, dressed hurriedly in the clothing piled on top of the laundry hamper and rushed to the nearest lot before the snow melted. Trees always look better with icicles hanging from the boughs as this covers the dozens of bare spots you will see once the tree is inside your home.

I bought the tallest, roundest Scotch pine available. Most of the height was on the branchless bottom of the trunk which would have to be removed to fit into the stand anyway.

I didn't recognize "my" tree by it's perfect shape or its foresty, pine scent; I knew I had found the right one when I spontaneously burst out singing the chorus of "O Tannenbaum."

When we got home with Tannenbaum however, its 64-inch width had to be compressed through our 36-inch doorway. After shaving off most of the lower needles onto the carpet in my office, the tree leaned nicely into the corner of our living room -- the six-inch base wouldn't fit into our four-inch stand.

No problem. My husband opened the patio door and grabbed the chainsaw. He first ensured that the saw was warm enough to operate by allowing it to rise to room temperature on the kitchen counter.

Aiming carefully so that the wood chips and sawdust flew out the door onto the deck, he began whittling away at the tree trunk like a sculptor on a piece of ice. Now resembling a toothpick in shape and size, the base of our nine-foot tree fit neatly into the holder when he was finished.

About then the dogs had begun to sing in tune, not to "O Tannenbaum," but to the shrill whine of the smoke detectors. It was comforting to find that these life-saving devices (the dogs and the smoke alarms) also detect the presence of two-cycle motor exhaust indoors; no one will ever be able to run a chainsaw in the house without my knowing it.

Soon Wylie, who was eleven-months-old at the time, showed his approval of the addition of greenery to our interior by raising his back leg as high as it would go and "christening" the Christmas tree. His assistance did not stop there. Joined by the rest of the dogs, we all crept into the dark attic crawl space to get the decorations stored there in dust and spider-carcass encrusted cartons with their sides torn out.

Wylie ran through the house jangling a box full of bells, shredding the packaging material and sprinkling it liberally over the furniture and floor so that it resembled snowflakes. It was his personal creative contribution to the season's adornments.

Oslo helped me sort through the old decorations, discarding dated and tacky decorations into a trash pile. He did this by pulling the core from a roll of red, white and blue (for Christmas?) wrapping paper and devouring it.

A few years ago, my Afghan hound, Keisha, had started this annual holiday tradition of canine consumption when she ate a roasted and carved 12-pound turkey by herself.

Libbet, my pound puppy, followed in her footsteps by abducting the baby Jesus from the manger scene under the tree on her first Christmas Eve. She ran through the house, with Jesus in her mouth, and my two small nieces chasing behind her, yelling and screaming, "Give me baby Jesus." Libbet responded by partaking in her "first communion" -- she chomped the figurine to small pieces.

Not to be outdone, the next year Oslo chewed the rear end off of the camel, an ear from the donkey and two legs from a lamb, all, by now, pitiful-looking figures out of the same creche. At least he stuck with animals and left the Holy family alone.

The following year Wylie, his lessons well learned from Oslo, continued the legacy. He removed and chomped the felt ornaments from the advent calendar on a daily basis. If it weren't for him doing this, I would have forgotten to mark off the passing days by hanging a decoration on the appropriate spot.

Oslo and Wylie have also teamed up to help each other with their decorating efforts. Oslo stands and stares at an ornament (usually dog show ribbons and felt cut-outs of our dogs) on the tree and Wylie takes it down and gives it to him. Oslo considerately punches extra holes in the chosen ornament so that we can hang the hooks in it.

I have a new puppy this year. I am anxiously looking forward to see how she will participate in our celebratory preparations.

I am thankful I have my dogs to help me prepare for Christmas. The holidays just wouldn't be as much of a challenge without them, or, as exciting as they are now. The love and joy that they add to my life are a special holiday gift to me that lasts throughout the year.

How do I know my dogs are so special? Because one of them even received a Christmas card in the mail, delivered by the U.S. Postal service and addressed only to, "Dear little Libbet, For Someone Special."

That's the magic of Christmas and the wonder of my world, where dogs decorate the house and you get to operate a chainsaw in the living room. I bet not everybody is that lucky.

May you be so blessed this happiest of holidays. copyright 1997 by author.