26/12/2025
👩🦱I am currently listening to a muffled version of "Jingle Bell Rock" coming from inside my laundry hamper.
Yesterday (Thursday), the mail arrived. Among the bills and flyers was a thick, glittery red envelope from my eccentric Aunt Linda.
I should have been suspicious. Aunt Linda loves chaos.
I opened the card.
Immediately, a tiny, high-pitched speaker chip blasted: “JINGLE BELL, JINGLE BELL, JINGLE BELL ROCK!”
It was loud. It was aggressive.
I closed the card quickly to stop the noise and tossed it onto the coffee table.
Moose was asleep on the rug, dreaming of ham.
The brief burst of music woke him.
He lifted his massive head. He rotated his ears like radar dishes.
He looked at the coffee table.
He saw the red envelope.
“The paper... it spoke to me?”
He approached the table with extreme caution. He stretched his neck out as far as it would go, keeping his back legs ready for a quick exit.
He sniffed the card. Nothing.
He poked it with his wet nose.
The card flopped open.
“JINGLE BELL SWING AND JINGLE BELL RING!”
Moose went vertical.
I have never seen a 165-pound animal levitate, but he did. He jumped straight up, all four paws leaving the ground, and landed in a defensive crouch.
He barked at the card. ROOF!
The card kept singing. “SNOWIN’ AND BLOWIN’ UP BUSHELS OF FUN!”
Moose decided this was a threat level Midnight. The paper was screaming. It had to be silenced.
He lunged.
He grabbed the card in his mouth.
Now, usually, when you close a card, the music stops.
But Moose didn't close it. He crumpled it. He held it sideways in his jowls.
The connection remained intact.
So now, the music was coming from inside the dog.
Mmmm-jingle-mmmm-bell-mmmm-rock...
Moose’s eyes went wide.
He realized his mistake. He had eaten the noise, but the noise was still alive.
“THE GHOST IS IN MY MOUTH, MOTHER!”
He panicked.
He took off running.
A Great Dane running full speed through a house is scary.
A Great Dane running full speed while emitting a muffled Christmas carol is a fever dream.
He did a lap around the kitchen table. “...dancing and prancing in Jingle Bell Square...”
He drifted around the corner into the hallway. “...in the frosty air...”
"Moose! Drop it!" I yelled, chasing the musical blur.
He refused. He believed that if he opened his mouth, the sound would escape and attack us all. He had to contain it.
He sprinted into the laundry room.
He saw the hamper full of towels.
He shoved his head into the towels and dropped the card.
Then, he used his nose to frantically bury it deeper.
He stepped back, panting.
The hamper was now singing.
“What a bright time, it’s the right time...”
Moose looked at the hamper. He looked at me.
He decided the burial wasn't enough.
He climbed into the laundry hamper.
He sat directly on top of the towels.
165 pounds of dog compressing the singing card.
The music warped. It slowed down.
“Jiiinnngllle.... beeeellllll.... rooooccckkk....”
And then, finally, with a dying electronic squeak, it stopped.
Silence filled the room.
Moose sat in the hamper, surrounded by dirty towels, looking stoic.
He looked at me with grave seriousness.
“I have smothered the demon, Mother. We are safe. But I must remain here to ensure it does not rise again.”
He refused to move for an hour.
I finally retrieved the card. It is mangled. It is soggy.
I threw it in the outside trash can.
Moose watched me do it from the window.
When I came back inside, he gave me a nod.
Then he went to sleep.
But this morning? The mailman came.
And Moose let out a low, warning growl.
He knows the paper is watching. He knows the paper can sing.
And he is ready for Round Two.
