12/17/2025
Hahaha!
Yesterday (Monday), I looked at the calendar and realized it was December 15th. I have sent zero holiday cards. I have taken zero festive photos.
So, in a moment of hubris, I decided to stage a DIY photoshoot in the living room.
"How hard can it be?" I thought. "He’s a handsome dog. I own a camera. We’ll be done in ten minutes."
I am a fool.
Phase 1: The Set Design
I hung a white bedsheet over the bookshelf to create a "Snowy Backdrop." I strung twinkling fairy lights across it. I scattered cotton balls on the floor to simulate "fresh powder."
It looked magical. It looked like Pinterest.
Then, Moose entered.
He saw the cotton balls. He stopped. He sniffed.
“Marshmallows?”
He ate three cotton balls before I could tackle him.
"No! It's snow! Don't eat the snow!"
He looked at me, a strand of cotton hanging from his lip like a wizard’s beard, and spat it out with a look of deep betrayal. “Flavorless clouds. Why do you mock me?”
Phase 2: The Costume
I bought a pair of felt reindeer antlers. The package said "One Size Fits All."
The package lied.
Moose’s head is the size of a Thanksgiving turkey platter. The elastic strap was stretching for its life.
I put them on him.
He froze. He clamped his ears down. His eyes went wide and shifted side-to-side. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, if the deer was also having an existential crisis.
He refused to move. He just stood there, vibrating, channeling his inner statue.
Phase 3: The Shoot
I set up the camera on a tripod. I set the 10-second timer.
"Okay, Moose. Stay. Look pretty."
I pressed the button. Beep. Beep. Beep.
I ran to stand next to him.
Moose saw me running.
Moose thought, “CHASE ME.”
He broke his statue pose. He lunged.
CLICK.
Photo #1: A blurry streak of brown fur and my terrified face falling out of the frame.
I reset. "Moose. Sit. Stay."
I held up a piece of cheese to bribe him.
I pressed the button. I ran back.
Moose stared at the cheese. He was focused. He was intense.
But then, he noticed the fairy lights behind us. One of them blinked.
Moose spun around to fight the blinking light.
CLICK.
Photo #2: A perfect, high-definition shot of Moose’s butt.
Phase 4: The Catastrophe
For the third attempt, I decided to sit on the floor holding him.
I wrapped my arms around his neck. "Just one nice picture, please."
The timer started. Beep... Beep...
Moose felt the love. He decided to reciprocate.
He leaned back.
Now, when a 165-pound dog leans back, gravity takes over.
We toppled over. I fell backward into the "Snowy Backdrop."
My foot caught the fairy lights.
The lights pulled the bookshelf.
The bookshelf didn't fall (thank god), but a heavy encyclopedia of birds slid off the top shelf.
THUD.
It landed on the floor, inches from my head.
Moose heard the thud. He panicked.
He tried to scramble up, but his legs were tangled in the bedsheet I had hung up.
He stood up, wearing the sheet like a cape. The antlers were now hanging around his neck like a necklace. He looked like a low-budget superhero named "Captain Chaos."
CLICK.
Photo #3: Moose standing triumphantly over my prone body, wearing a sheet, looking wild-eyed, while I am buried under cotton balls and fairy lights.
The Aftermath
We gave up.
I spent an hour untangling the lights from his paws.
He spent an hour sighing and trying to eat the felt antlers.
But here’s the thing. I looked at Photo #3 again.
It’s chaotic. It’s messy. I look disheveled. Moose looks insane.
But it’s us.
So, I’m printing it. I’m sending it to 50 people.
The caption will read: "Peace on Earth. (We have none. Send help.)"
Happy Holidays from the Trenches.
