Alvin's Letter (as dictated to Sharon Badertscher aka "Mom"):

Dear Santa:

I would like to take this opportunity to clear up a little misunderstanding or two that may have inadvertently caused my name to appear on the "naughty" list this year.  I assumed at first that it was simply a typo, or perhaps some confusion generated by the chipmunk who shares my name (may he rest in pieces).  It has been brought to my attention by a certain gloating pack mate, who shall remain nameless, but if you need a hint, it starts with "M" and ends in "Y", that you may be misconstruing certain recent events as bad acts.  I assure you, nothing could be further from the truth.

First of all, I have no idea why my people dragged in a tree from outside.  That's just weird.  This particular tree had not yet been claimed by anyone.  I can't let this thing just go unmarked or every dog and coyote in the neighborhood will think they can come in and take over.  They need to be told right away where the boundaries lie.  It is my tree in my house, so I marked it, once or twice.  Excuse me trying to protect our territory.  The people kept putting boxes under the tree.  You can't smell my marking with those boxes in front, so I added a layer of protection by marking the boxes too.  Smart thinking on my part, if you ask me.  Second, they know how much I like balls.  They hung these cute balls all over the tree.  What am I supposed to think?  It's my tree (I marked it) those balls must be for me.  They don't bounce well (my people don't own glass bulbs - kids and dogs and glass don't mix) but apparently they aren't really designed to be pounced on.  I kinda knocked the tree over when I grabbed a ball, but in my defense, the trees outside don't fall when you push on them.  I guess it's just the indoor kind that fall over easily.  Now I know.

There were also some Christmas cookies on the counter that some relative brought over.  I naturally assumed they were for me.  Again, my house, my tree, my cookies.  Apparently they were supposed to be shared.  Who knew.  It was an honest mistake.

So then, Andy got this goose down comforter for Christmas and it was in a box and the whole present smelled like a big tasty dead goose.  I think my claw must have slipped on the wrapper and I may have accidentally opened his present a  day or two before Christmas.  I had no idea that there was a waiting period for these things.  He didn't claim it right away; it was just laying there under my tree.  So I figured a dead goose is a dead goose.  Finders keepers.  They wouldn't even let me keep the box!  Also, Andy and Elizabeth had these big socks hanging from the fireplace.  The fireplace is my favorite napping spot.  (I have not permitted my people to light a fire in said fireplace for 2 years now.  The fire warms up the bricks and it ruins the damp chilly effect I love so much)  But, I digress.  I think I may have ripped down the stockings Great Aunt Dorothy Lou hand knitted for the kids when they were babies, but only because they were blocking my view of the rest of the house.  It's a safety issue.  Shouldn't leave stocking hanging around.  Turns out, the stockings weren't empty.  There were things in them.  Fun things.  I have this great game I play with food bowls, shoes and fun things.  I hide them.  If there are pairs of them, like shoes, I hide just one.  Keeps everyone hunting for stuff.  Frankly, I think they are a little soft in the hunting department.  Just this

weekend, mom found the brown croc I hid last summer.  I like to think of the scavenger hunt as a training tool.  Nevertheless, they didn't appreciate having to hunt through the house for their gifts and even the stockings for that matter.  I was only trying to keep them in shape.  How do they expect to catch a moving squirrel if they can't even find a stationary brown sandal.  I do my best, but I still have serious work ahead of me.

 So then, my mom and dad invited all of these people to the house for the holidays and everyone brought tons of food, and I wasn't even allowed to come out of my crate.  Andy said the people weren't ready for dinner theater but mom said some people get weirded out by having to defend their meals from the double dutch attack.  I say if you can't defend a meal, you aren't high enough in the pack to eat it.  What's the problem?  I was so good, Santa.  I sat nearly quietly in my crate while everyone ate the good food.  I didn't even knock Grandma over when cousin Gannon released "the cute fuzzy puppy" from his crate.  I didn't bite him when he grabbed my face and pressed his face right up against mine even though those are fighting words.  That should count for something, right?  Maybe some extra credit points would not be out of line.  Misty, is still my mommy dog, even though I keep telling her that I am old enough to take care of myself.  She treats me like a little kid sometimes.  She growled a little at the kid and told him to back off.  Luckily, Misty grants a stay of execution to puppies and human cubs, or Gannon would be

missing a face, and Aunt Amy would have been screaming.  It does ruin the holiday mood.  He is 8 so Misty thought it was high time he learned not to be rude.  A little growl was all it took,  Then he said his lab never growls when he stares it in the eye.  At that point, Misty proclaimed him to be too stupid to train and simply refused to acknowledge he was alive...until he had the bright idea to try to wrestle me. He grabbed me from behind and tried to bring me down.  Silly little house ape.  I have honed my wrestling skills with Misty.  I flipped him over in one move and pinned him. Then his eyes started leaking, so I cleaned him up.  He had a little syrup on his face and I got that too.  Misty did not approve of the wrestling, but Andy intervened quickly and explained to the boy that wrestling with me was a fight he could not win and could not afford to lose.  He had a little bit of syrup on his shirt too, so I got that one too.  All in all, I taught him a lesson about wrestling with a strange dog, and I gave him a bath.  Are you keeping track of those bonus points?  

Which brings me to the last big misunderstanding, which I'm sure you will see, was totally blown way out of proportion, and which should be completely cancelled out by not killing or maiming the cousin.  How was I supposed to know that the little squeaky thing that looked exactly like a hampster was really so called Ninja, ko-yo toy, or whatever its called.  It squeaks, it twitters, it moves along the ground.  It was supposed to have a black belt in the art of ninjitsu, but its training was severely lacking in my opinion.
 

I got it in one pounce.  Mom wouldn't let me decapitate it though because the rodent toy belonged to cousin G.  I didn't even get to kill it.  I did traumatize it though, because after the pounce, it would turn on randomly and start to twitter to itself to challenge itself to a fight.  I think it has post traumatic stress syndrome.  Should have put it out of his misery.

 Anyway, it seems like some of the people actually liked this hampster thing.  They play with it.  They also live with cats and don't eat them.  What's up with that?  You see my point now?  Misty was so proud of me that she gave me a high five paw and we started tearing around our little indoor track (fka the formal living room). Aunt Amy's purse was in the middle of the track, but I didn't complain.  I just ran right over it.  I even went right over the love seat where a few of the other relatives were sitting.  I cleared their laps and everything.  No idea why they all screamed.  I'm pretty sure they were encouraging me to go faster.  Mom says to look on the bright side.  She's pretty sure we won't have to cook for as many people next year.  I think I did everyone a favor.

 By the end of the weekend, I even taught cousin G how to be safe around dogs.  When he said goodbye, he patted my back.  Misty got a little scratch behind the ears, but not on the head and no eye contact.  So all in all, I think I did more good deeds that bad ones, and my extensive record of cuteness should speak for itself.

By now, you are probably feeling guilty because you inadvertently skipped over my house.  Don't dispair; there is still time to correct this oversight.  Orthodox Christmas is still around the corner, and although I am technically an Alaskan Malamute, we all know the Inuits and other Native American northern tribes crossed the land bridge from Russian.
I'm practically a Russian orthodox dog.  I'll leave a small stocking out (hung appropriately and not in front of the fireplace) for your convenience

Love, Alvin

P.S. - sorry about that milk and cookies misunderstanding.  It won't happen again this year.