Written by: Stephy Jackson
A few years ago, one of my mom’s friends asked my family to take care of their dog, a little pug named Philip, during winter break while they were traveling. Philip was cute because he had big rolls of fat all the way up to his face, and his tongue would always be flopping to the side of his mouth. His face always had this slightly dumb expression and looked as if it had been squished at. Despite being adorable on the outside, he was the spawn of the devil on the inside; he would bite and scratch everything he could and in the house. Couches, pillows, chair legs, you name it, Philip tried to destroy it. Philip also had a nasty habit of peeing whenever he was mad, hungry or just felt like annoying us. But for some reason—I’ll never know why— my entire family adored him.
Then, come Christmas morning, Philip showed his true colors and turned our lovely Christmas into a messy disaster. All my siblings and I, along with our parents, made our way to the Christmas tree and started to admire all the wonderful gifts that we could not wait to open. Suddenly my mom said, “Does anyone else smell something weird?” We all stopped for a second and sniffed the air, slowly being encompassed by a putrid smell that filled the room. I noticed that this stench was coming from under the tree. I got down to check out what could be causing the smell, and just as I moved one of the presents out of the way, there was Philip, who had given our family his own gift —he had pooped all over the presents and the bottom side of our Christmas tree. We all stepped back and screamed as my parents ran to grab some towels to clean up the mess.
My parents spent the morning trying to clean up the mess and my siblings and I just sat on the couch and complained. We were able to save some of the presents, but some of the others were sadly lost in the battle. Let’s just say Philip didn’t have such a hot rep after that day.
