it's beginning to smell a lot like christmas

With the furnace purring away and the house now a balmy 66 degrees, life on the inside has thermally gotten back to normal. Which somehow made me think more about the outside, and how our light jacket, squirrel chasing, paw washing days of November may soon be over.

I peeled back the roof from tiny chumley's igloo.

blink. blink. what'd u do that for?, the chum wanted to know.

"It's time to chase some squirrels!" I told him, and headed for the back door, listening to the sound of tags jingling behind me.

Brightly colored leaves gently wafted down to the ground while Baxter chased the squirrels from the birdfeeder, and for minutes we basked in the glory of autumn.

There was enough going on that Baxter didn't feel urge make progress on Project Down Under, the archeological dig that he rather frequently mines to test his theory that squirrels live underground.

No dirty dig dug paws yet - maybe I shouldn't push my luck, I thought, and whistled for him to come back inside with me.

Exhilarated by his romp, tiny chumley happily obliged.

Odd, I thought as Baxter trundled in. Why doesn't he smell like sun baked dog? And why does it suddenly smell like Christmas in here?

Baxter pressed his ears back in semi annoyed fashion as I sniffed him over, his little twinkly happy rays slowly fading as I tried to find the source of his holiday odor.

Paws. Front paws.

And there it was. Sticky, gooey pine tar. On fur.

my new cologne mom! u like it?, his eyes asked optimistically.

Yes baby dog, but let's go get some cooking oil and a washcloth, shall we? Cuz little dachshund paws and pine tar really don't belong in a sentence together.