My best man friend Jeff wanted me to wish all the HGN readers a Berry Merry Christmas. He knows I do not like berries, and Christmas, well, I never understood what all the fuss is about. Like, a man with a white beard dressed up like a red maple tree. News agencies tracking a mythical being flying through the air with reindeer. Bark. Humbug.
OK. I like the smell of baked turkey, and the taste of leftovers is a sure treat. OK. OK. I love the taste of gravy on my kibbles. That happens once a year. So I guess if I knew better, and if I could growl gently, I might give in to all the hype.
Since we moved to Haida Gwaii, I am not allowed to go into certain houses where family gatherings take place. What is that all about? I hear expressions of love and joy, but there are people who do not like dogs. Blarney, right? I always tell Jeff to eat fast and bring me home some goodies. No berries or chocolate coating, please. Oh, and turn on the TV before you leave. Put it on the Disney Channel.
I am reminded, however, that we are guardians of the helpless. We are the early warning system that senses danger, and many of my type try to avert mayhem and wild and weird things from disrupting the peace of our precious humans, even while they are singing Joy to the World or Deck the Halls with Balls of Holly. Goodness. Gracious. Great Balls of Fire. It ranks right up there with Here Comes Peter Cottontail as the epitome of performative narratives.
Jeff calls my angst canine irony. Yet I try not to be sarcastic. And I am not being rhetorical. I am a journalist, dammit.
And just when I think I have got him trained, and that Jeff is sensitive to my sentiments, he begins to sing me Christmas carols while reading the lyrics from his iPad.
Another of my humbug peeves is all the movies made about dogs at Christmas time. Sometimes we are lead characters, but mostly we are supporting cast. Take How the Grinch Stole Christmas and his dog, Max. Max is the single character who makes the Grinch have a change of heart after the affable anti hero steals all the presents in Whoville. Jim Carrey has a great Grinch voice, while Max has been voiced by several different actors. If it were my voice, it would have to be Anderson Cooper. I am a journalist, you know.
And how about Snoopy, eh? He makes Charlie a star in A Charlie Brown Christmas. There is also the paranormal investigator in The Nightmare Before Christmas, Zero, who brings an ethereal performance imbued with canine irony. My personal favourite is Beethoven’s Christmas Adventure, where my good friend the St. Bernard unearths Santa’s lost toy bag. My least favourite is A Dog Named Christmas, with the sappy narrative about an adopted dog just in time for the holidays. Stellar performances.
Have any of these dogs received a nomination as best canine performer in a drama, musical or comedy at the legendary Oscars? That is right. None of the above. The only one who may have come close is Toto, of The Wizard of Oz fame. It is a fantasy drama, yes, but it is one of the classics. And we all love it when Dorothy sings Somewhere Over the Rainbow. Often, it is the musical score that saves a dog movie.
OK. I guess it sounds like I may be a bit hypocritical myself. How could I know so much about movies and all the characters? Full disclosure. While studying journalism at Harvard, I watched a lot of movies. I wanted to be an art critic until I met the future inventor of Facebook, Markie Boy. He was the guy down the hallway from me in the same dorm who always had Milk-Bones bulging in his pocket. He was my buddy at college. One day he said, “Boyz, I predict you will become a columnist in Canada.”
That night, snow began to fall on the storied campus grounds. The landscape was filled with maple trees, oak and white ash. And all through the place, not a creature was stirring, not even the mice. Off in the distance, the sound of a melodica, a V accordion and a voice that resonated like a baritone could be heard. A man was singing Bella Notte from Lady and the Tramp, Jeff’s favourite love story about a rich dog who falls in love with a poor man, dogs of course. The sound seemed to come from a dorm with candlelight flickering on the windowsill.
The chorus, “This is the night, it’s a beautiful night, and we call it Bella Notte,” is a song Jeff always sang. He used to say the movie came out the year he was born. He sang it to me every Christmas Eve, and I had no idea it was from an animated movie about my friends. It makes me nostalgic and a little teary eyed.
But I do not cry. I am a journalist, dammit. Merry Berry Christmas, and to all a good night.
