Hide the Women, Children and Gourds.

You may need to look away.

Sola did a bad thing. Surprise! Be aware that Mrs. Author takes her holiday decorations seriously. Holiday floormats, seasonal candles and all form of holiday decorations are prepared just so. Mrs. Author takes pride in her decorating as well she should.

Sola cares not for such things. I imagine that Sola opens her eyes with just a few thoughts each morning: eat, drink, be merry. To Sola the world is a giant toybox, like Christmas every day. As we have learned, pumpkins are toys.


We walked out of the garage, all four of us, headed out for a drive. Nigel went about his business as Mrs. Author and I loaded our goods in the truck. A blood-curdling scream broke the silence. As I spun around to investigate the cause of the commotion I watched Sola fly across the yard, victim clenched firmly in her jaws. A cloud of Ravens darkened the sky as she tossed her victim to and fro, breaking the stem clean off of it. Mrs. Author watched silently, her mouth agape. Nigel napped. I swore loudy at Sola, begging her to stop. She ignored me.

Once a dog tastes pumpkin it's all over. Or something like that. Sola refused to drop the pumpkin for some time, just enough to test our patience. We laughed aloud as Nigel observed her, amused and bewildered. She rolled, kicked punched and pushed the pumpkin across the yard to me, hoping I would throw it. When she knew I would not she simply picked it up and ran in circles with it.



As quickly as it began it ended, Sola's curiousity satisfied. The hapless pumpkin was tossed aside as we jumped in the truck and sped off in search of autumn adventures. Sola had reminded us that simple pleasures abound. And that it was well after Thanksgiving, time to ditch the pumpkins and make room for Mrs. Author's Chistmas floormats...


Nigel: Cold blooded!
Sola: need neck brace...