Sometimes we forget to give credit where credit is due. Years before I started writing, our pets provided the catalyst, putting paws to paper. For two successive years, 2007 and 2008, our furry family members wrote our annual Christmas letter. Although a bit dog-eared, here are the original, unedited copies.

2007 The Year in the Dog House

Mom doesn't like dogs. Never has. She says they smell bad, shed hair all over the place, and dig up flower beds. Besides, why would you want a slobbery canine jumping on you when a gentle Siamese would curl up in your lap and purr? To display such naiveté, I am afraid she had some poor training in her early years. Everyone knows the old adage, "Dogs have Masters, Cats have Staff" is not merely a tall tail.

So how did I manage to wiggle my fluffy self into the center of the annual Christmas photo? Good question! You are barking up the right tree. For many years, every family member except Mom has known what stood between them and perfect domestic happiness: the missing ingredient was a dog. Much persuasion was applied to the matriarch of the household; petitions were signed, expansive promises were made regarding sharing in the canine's care, tears were shed, dark threats were muttered. Mom finally folded under the pressure (a miracle in its own right - if you look up stubborn in the dictionary, her name appears in the definition). She resigned herself to a life filled with cleaning up after "the dog", for the sake of family harmony. After months of searching for the perfect dog, she found me, Hewitt. 

They brought me home in May, 2005, when I was just a wee wee pup, and I have been training them ever since. I could write volumes about how to handle humans, with all their idiosyncrasies, but I am still in the research phase, gathering data. So far the working title of the project is, "Human Whisperer - Subliminal Messages for getting more Treats from People". When this masterpiece is completed, I will send out a p-mail, which is the preferred method of millennium canine communication. Just check your local fire hydrant at www.whizdog/hewitt.pet.

Let me tell you about this family privileged to share a home with me, the perfect dog. Derek is twelve and really more like a sibling to me. In dog years, we are nearly twins. Our favorite games are tug-o-war, hide and seek, and swimming in the pool. Derek likes anything related to computers. He plays tennis and loves to sing. I would yowl along, but I don't want to show him up. Somedays, at Mom's request, I take DJ for a walk. He also has been known to ply me with edible treats, in order to get me to perform various jumping tricks; thus the phrase, "trick and treat".

Speaking of treats, I know Derek would like to have a little chew on one of the rawhide chips that Mom gives me for a bedtime snack. Sometimes when I am all cozy at the foot of the parental bed (Temporapedic is recommended for an active dog's back), Derek will visit under the guise of giving me a nice belly rub. I know what this dog-and-pony show is all about; he is trying to steal my chew chip and hide it under his pillow for a nice midnight gnawing session himself. The belly rubs are quite acceptable, but Derek had better KEEP HIS PAWS OFF MY TREATS!

Lauren is fourteen and is quite a dear. She has been known to "accidentally" drop delectable morsels on the floor during family dinner as part of my on-the-job training. You see, I am a guard dog: I have been entrusted with guarding the kitchen floor. With all the cooking that goes on in that place, you cannot imagine how many crumbs try to sneak around on the hardwood floor. I don't mean to brag, but my skills are so developed that I can hear a stray cheerio hit the floor from 50 feet away.

More than any other family member, Lauren best understands a concept that dogs have known for thousands of years: quality of life means operating in a pack. Many Friday evenings, a pack of female freshmen arrive and hole up in Lauren's den for hours. Sometimes I lie out in the hallway and enjoy the aromas of perfume and shampoo, and listen to their music. When these females emerge, ready for the high school football game, they are a sight for sore eyes. I like to try to sneak into their group photos before they head out the door.

Christopher is seventeen, which means that he has been in obedience school for quite a few years. A visit to his room awakens all the senses. The heady aroma of sweaty tennis shoes greets you at the door. The covers on the bed are strewn with an artistic flair and rumpled just right, so that the family feline has den to burrow into. On occasion, little chocolate wrappers line up across the nightstand; I always check, but alas, the chocolate soldiers have already gone to war. The walls are covered with tennis trophies. How come no one ever gives me a tennis trophy?! I bring the little, yellow balls back; all Chris does is hit them away! 

I have tried to straighten my teeth using Christopher's retainer, but every time I find it and get it positioned on my cuspids, I cannot resist the urge to try just one teensy, tiny chew. The retainer ends up looking like a piece of modern art. I guess I will have to resign myself to living with an overbite. Maybe my overbite means that I am an overachiever in the process of mastication. I will try to chew less and swallow my food in larger chunks.

There is an international element to the Schlabach household. Teddy, the fat (oops, I mean furry) feline is from Siam. His Siamese ancestors came from a time when cats were treated like deity; he has not let us forget that fact. I myself am a sixth generation Australian Labradoodle. Lest I get the big head, Mom keeps things in perspective: "pedigree is as pedigree does".

Razvan rounds out the international influence at our house this year. He grew up in Romania and is in Chattanooga getting a business degree and playing tennis at UTC. You may remember his big brother, Marian, who lived with us last year. He earned a physics degree in May and married Betsy, who is studying to be a nurse. Razvan's English is much better than mine, but we share the universal language of food; our favorite place to hang out is in the kitchen and we both adore leftovers. Like no one else, Raz understands that I am really a dainty lap dog in big dog fur. He likes to pick me up, so that I can rest my head on his shoulder. His girlfriend, Katy, has become a dear friend, even though I know she secretly favors Teddy. Raz and Katy are ringing wedding bells in May. I may volunteer to be the best dog. 

True to all her fears, Mom has assumed the title role of Head Dog Whisperer. She likes to act like it is such a chore, but when we are out for our daily walks where no one else can hear, she tells me otherwise. She sees that I am bathed, fed, and don't get into trouble (what a spoil-sport!). I knew early on that she was mostly bark and very little bite. My first night in their house, I was in the garage, crying for my siblings. Mom brought me into the kitchen and laid down on the floor beside me to sleep. She tries to make sure that all my training is consistent; she tells the other family members not to tell me to do something unless they plan to see that I actually obey. I guess I should tell her that I plan to rummage through the trashcan, but I much prefer the element of surprise. I can always feign ignorance when she comes to me with the shredded up tissues. 

Just as the country song says, "I've gone and saved the best for last": my favorite person in the whole world, paws down, is Dad. When he comes home from a hard day at the office, I am always at the door to greet him with a ratty, chew-up toy. He picks up my front paws and gives me a proper hug and tells me that I am his best friend. WOW - from someone who has lived half of a century, that is high praise indeed! This past year, he has taken up a new hobby: he is learning to play the piano. Every night he serenades the family with Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. As soon as he finishes, the family begs him to "play it again", which he does, many times. The bond between Dog and Dad runs very deep, perhaps heightened by the fact that Dad had to wait so many years for my arrival. Sometimes late at night, I'll stretch myself across his lap as he reads one of his many books, and think to myself, "a man truly is a dog's best friend".

2008 Schlabach Pets' Christmas Interview

It has come to our attention, through an anonymous p-mail, that there may be cause for concern at the Schlabach household, in Chattanooga, Tennessee. PETA (Puppies Earn Treats Arf) has sent an investigative reporter to the stone house to interview the family pets. The reporter discovered two labradoodle canines, Hewitt and Wilson, and an old Siamese, Teddy; all were sprawled out in the master bedroom and appeared to be in a hypnotic stupor, with eyes glazed over, from excessive coddling. To ensure complete honesty and avoid any coercion, the interview was conducted while the whole human family was away playing tennis.

PETA:   We have noticed that last year's Christmas card included two of you and a tall,good looking fellow. All are missing from this year's photo. Any ideas why you were omitted?

Hewitt:  Mom said that dogs, mountain streams, and family photos do not mix. Can you imagine how much less "staged" their portrait would seem if Wilson and I had been invited to perform some of our aquatic jumping tricks nearby?!

Wilson:  As the newest member of the family, this could have been my debut. I joined the household last winter. Mom said that Hewitt was so energetic and social, perhaps a second dog would calm him down. She says that the verdict is still out. 

PETA:  And the tall fella?

Hewitt:  Our Romanian brother, Raz, got married and left us. It's good we like Katy, or we would feel abandoned. They live in town, so we still rub noses with him occasionally.

PETA:  Can you describe the family's behavior over the year to give us any hints as to a change in your status?

Hewitt:  As the oldest dog, I can really relate to 18 year old, Chris; sometimes the younger ones just annoy you! He is a senior now, studying hard, looking at colleges, and still hitting tennis balls. Last spring, his high school tennis team won the state championship. He got a shotgun for his birthday and has proven to be a good marksman at skeet shooting. The maternal grandfather would have been proud. He has grown some facial hair; I think that on a deep, subconscious level, he identifies with me. 

Wilson:  Like me, 13 year old, Derek, is the youngest. He is an eighth grader whose favorite school subjects are algebra and physics. He is obsessed with all things computer. I understand obsessions - mine is food. Derek has an amazing net game at tennis, likes to sing, and often sees the funny side of situations. I have overheard Mom tell him not to bother trying any of those manipulative, baby-of-the-family moves; she sees through them, being the youngest of a large litter herself. 

Teddy:  Besides the fact that we are both dark haired, the only similarity between 15 year old Lauren and myself, is that I'm the sole feline and she is the only female offspring. I am a homebody with no friends; Lauren views home as a launching pad and has many pals. Last summer, she traveled half way around the world with a group from school, to live in Spain for a month. She is in tenth grade this year and has been rehearsing for three months with a large, school choir, for a Candlelight Christmas Concert. With all her social activities, she still manages to excel academically and also play on the varsity tennis team. She makes me tired; I think that I will go take a catnap.

PETA:  So the kids still view you as part of the family. What about the parents?

Hewitt:  Mom is a card-carrying member of the Puppies Earn Treats Arf organization. We have to work for our treats. No free handouts from her! Sit, stay, down, come, walk, poop, don't poop, sleep, eat, play - she always has something for us to do. Recently, she wanted to give us a lesson in being civil to crowds, so she invited her whole family to Chattanooga for the Thanksgiving holiday. We had a great time with all thirty people who came. I only jumped on a few of them. (Sorry, Uncle Greg)

Wilson:  And I only barked at them when they first arrived. Oh, and I made two little children cry, but then I got used to having them around. Mom has assigned me to be an understudy to the chief guard of the kitchen floor (Hewitt). I take my job very seriously. Sometimes I just stand still, head cocked to one side, daring a morsel to fall on that floor.

Hewitt:  Dad has certain expectations of us as well. He expects us to make a huge fuss when he comes home from work, to jump all over him and wag our hind quarters in an aerobic sort of way. He expects us to sit on his lap after dinner, while he tells us we are his best friends. Mom says that he loves us so much because we are the only ones in his life that don't want something from him. Dad plays classical pieces on the piano for us every evening. He is quite advanced! He is still treating people with cancer. His patients love him and we know why: he has an oversized heart. He did leave us for a week this summer. He went to Peru on a medical missions trip.

Wilson:  I know that he missed us terribly.

PETA:  I think that I've heard enough. It appears to me, fellas, that our initial suspicions were unsubstantiated. If awards were given for Most Loved Dogs, I thing you two would be bringing a trophy home. However, I would like to schedule a time for you to meet with FUR (Felines Usually Rule), regarding your treatment of Teddy. FUR conducts sensitivity classes, specializing in dog/cat relationships, from which you could benefit greatly.