Post-Christmas Paws, Snow Days & Birthday Surprises: Graham Learns to Decompress

Hello everyone, Graham here. I’m not going to lie to you… January has been a lot. Christmas was loud, busy and full of snacks (the holy trinity), and then suddenly… nothing. No tree. No twinkly lights. No daily advent calendar treat appearing like magic from Mum’s hand. Just me, the quiet house, and my thoughts. And honestly? I’m not sure I like my thoughts; they make me hungry.  

Danny has gone back to school, and Ava pops off to nursery on random days that I haven’t quite worked out yet. One minute she’s here putting stickers on my forehead, the next minute she’s gone and the house feels huge. Too quiet. Even Ted seems confused, and he doesn’t even have a brain. Dad is back at work and Mum is working part time, so Nanny often pops in to let me out or to go on a walk with Grace. Christmas was non-stop excitement and now I think my nervous system needs a little lie down. Mum says I’m “decompressing from the festive highs.” I say I’m mourning the loss of my advent calendar. Same thing. 

To make matters worse (or better, depending who you ask), Mum has announced she’s on a health kick. This apparently involves running. With me! She bought one of those fancy running belts where the dog lead clips on, and friends… I did not sign up for this. The first attempt was chaotic. Mum clipped me in, said “right then!” and started jogging. I stood completely still, frozen in confusion, like an elegant statue. I wasn’t being naughty, I just genuinely didn’t know what was happening. Was this a walk? A chase? A trap? 

The second attempt went… worse. Mum tripped over me and cut her elbow. I would like it noted for the record, that I was once again just standing there. Nanny arrived, assessed the situation, and reminded Mum that I was retired from running and should be allowed to put my feet up like the distinguished older gentleman I am. I felt very seen. Mum, however, is adamant she wants to try again and says it’ll do us both the world of good. I respectfully disagree; I am firmly on Team Nanny. I suggest snuggles in bed and a gentle stroll around the village every day instead. Compromise is important in relationships, come on Mum! 

I must tell you about the snow, because apparently this was a big deal. I woke up one morning, looked out into the garden, and everything had turned white overnight. No warning. No explanation. Just… white. I stood at the door for a long time, staring at it suspiciously, trying to decide whether it was safe or some sort of elaborate trap. Ava and Danny, however, did not share my concerns. They burst outside shouting with excitement, immediately slipping, sliding and laughing while I carefully placed one paw onto the cold stuff, fully expecting it to bite me back. It was freezing, confusing and quite crunchy under my feet, but I decided to be brave and joined in, because bravery is important when your humans are screaming with joy. 

Before I knew it, Ava and Danny had rolled the snow into a very wonky snowman and proudly stuck a carrot on his face. Now, friends, this was clearly a mistake on their part. A carrot left unattended in my garden? I took swift action. I grabbed it and legged it at full greyhound speed, tearing around the garden while Ava and Danny chased me, laughing so hard they could barely run. Mum was shouting something about “Graham, give it back!” but honestly, I thought I was improving the game. Eventually, I was caught and the carrot was reclaimed, but not before I’d had the best time of my life. I still don’t know what snow is or why it exists, but if it involves children laughing, running free, and surprise vegetables, then I am fully in favour. 

Anyways, just when I was starting to accept my quieter, colder post-Christmas life… something very strange happened. I woke up one morning and all my toys were wearing party hats. Even Ted. TED. And then Ava put one on my head and everyone started singing. Turns out… it was my birthday?! Apparently, I was turning the big SIX. I feel older, wiser and even more handsome (if that’s even possible)! They said my birthday was the 4th of January, but I swear I was born in December. Bit odd that. Although, now I think about it, my brother once bragged that by having his birthday made to be later, on paper, so he got an extra month’s grace to enter the really fast races or something. Honestly, us racing dogs are sneaky like that. Either way, birthday means cake, so I’m not asking questions. 

I ate a lot of cake; custard cream flavoured! Iconic. I also opened presents, Mum said I’m a professional now after The Incident at Christmas and I got a new toy and an ostrich bone. Yum doesn’t even cover it. Everyone sang Happy Birthday, and for tea I was served a cooked steak. A STEAK. Just for me! I nearly cried. It was so yummy, it is most definitely my favourite meal ever! Linda Biscuits from the homing kennels even rang Mum to wish me happy birthday and see how things were going. Mum told her all about Christmas and laughed, which is nice because she definitely wasn’t laughing at the time. 

We spent the day in the woods, sniffing everything (obviously) and keeping an eye on the squirrels, who continue to live rent-free in my head. It was a fantastic birthday, truly top tier. And now I suppose I must wait patiently for my Gotcha Day, which I’m told is also a big deal. Honestly, this family is very good at celebrations. 

So yes, January is quieter. I miss the tree. I miss my daily advent treat. I miss the chaos. But I am learning to relax, to decompress, and to accept that life is still pretty brilliant… especially when there’s cake, steak, and people who love you enough to put party hats on your toys. 

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off for a nap. Running is cancelled. 

Love and Licks, Graham x