'Tis the night before Christmas and Merlin the Dog,
Is polishing this year’s new Santa Paws blog;
All his dog pals had long gone to their mats,
The photo-shoots done, no more un-comfy hats;
The red Merlin-mobile was parked tucked in its shed,
Dreaming of thrilling new road trips ahead;
Merlin’s collar was hung by the car keys with care,
Secure in the knowledge they’d soon go somewhere;
The dog toys were tidied and stuffed in their crate,
Awaiting the next RSVP play date;
The chauffeurs were snuggled asleep oh so well,
Happy in Merlin’s home dog-friendly hotel.
Deer biscuits sat by the hearth on a plate,
Merlin was sure they must be reindeer bait;
In case he was Scottish, for Santa a dram,
A hearty retort declared, “Aye, that I am!”
Eight tiny deer biscuits were laid in a row,
What if one biscuit were somehow to ‘go’?
NORAD’s on-line Santa Claus sleigh tracking site
revealed that Santa’s due deep in the night;
Will the eight tiny biscuits be fresh when they come?
To be a good host, Merlin sampled just one.
As iTunes played quiet holiday Filk,
Merlin spied by the biscuits, a saucer of milk!
Too much to resist was the smell of full cream,
Merlin’s head slowly turned as if in a dream;
Ever closer and closer his muzzle was drawn,
Until in a twinkling the milk was gone long before dawn!
Merlin raised a keen ear for the chauffeurs at rest,
He could tell by their snoring, it was time for a test;
With a quick focused lick a commotion was heard,
A second biscuit was gone, yum, yum, and a third;
As the biscuit plate made a just bit of a clatter,
Merlin froze in mid-bite willing hush in the matter;
Silence restored, chauffeurs slept on through the night,
Merlin thought, “I’ve had three, it must be all right!”
Four biscuits, five biscuits, six biscuits woofed,
And still no tiny reindeer hoofs prancing the roof.
Now as Merlin concludes his Santa Paws blog,
He confesses to the reindeer he’s been a bad dog.
“I’ve eaten your biscuits, and though they were small,
I’m certain that deer don’t eat biscuits at all;
“And I drank Santa’s milk but it wasn’t my fault,
‘Cause I know for a fact he prefers single malt.”
Outside Christmas solar-powered lights go dark,
And Merlin signs off with a holiday bark:
As the last tiny biscuit now passes from sight,
“Happy Holidays to all, and to all a Great Night!”