Something exciting is happening. Even though Mum had a cold; she and Daddy were hustling and bustling – going out the back door, then coming in. Sometimes they asked me to go into my crate (and gave me delicious bits of treat for the effort); sometimes not. When I could, I waited by the back door and they always called me good puppy when they came back in again to find me lying quietly on the kitchen rug.

Friday, Mum climbed up high, hanging pine boughs from the tops of the drapes. Then she did something and sparkly lights shone through the branches. Then they brought down big boxes and suddenly, a great tree was growing inside the house! Mum worked for a long time, tucking her hands in and out of the branches. Then sparkly lights appeared there, too!

Mum set me up on the sofa (I think it was so that I could look out but I couldn’t see very well, the camel back is so high) but maybe it was to keep me from looking at the pretty baubles she had laid on the coffee table. One was so shiny and bright and it looked like a crescent moon I had seen outside. I couldn’t help it – it took it to look at closer, wondering how she got it inside and what we would do for a moon in the night sky. Mum saw me and took it back – “You mustn’t touch!” she scolded, smiling. Lily just laid (nicely) a little out of the way. How can she do it? I could barely contain myself and I told Mum so. Then I was back on the sofa.

It took almost all day to put the baubles onto the great tree. At long last Mum sat down by me on the couch and I crawled into her lap. We gazed at the grand tree that looked like an enormous jewel.

After a bit she said, “Oh, I’ve forgot the most important thing!” and went upstairs. This time she came down with huge red tartan socks. She got down on the floor in front of the fireplace. “Let me help! Let me help! I said as I crawled onto her lap and took a corner of one of the socks. “Not yet for you,” Mum said as she hooked them under the mantle. There were four. I counted, Daddy – one; Mum – two; Lily – three and Me – four. Mum saw me looking at mine (at the end) and said “No, little one – these are for people; Daddy, me, Matt and Jessica. Corgis have special stockings, just big enough for corgi treats and toys. I’ve ordered a new one just for you and it will come soon; then we play Christmas music and we will hang both of them up; you and Lily and me.”

She told me about Santa Claus (did she mean ‘paws’, I wondered when she described the jolly fellow and what he would bring) and I jumped up. “But what if he comes early and there are no corgi stockings?” Mum nuzzled me and reassured me that he wouldn’t come until Christmas Eve and we would put cookies and milk out to thank him. When Mum went back to the sofa I laid down on the bed she had left in front of the fireplace. I fell asleep dreaming of Santa Paws and rawhides and a new toy.

Mum says Christmas and Corgis are magical and that, sometimes, wishes made on a Christmas star come true.

I wished I may, I wished I might that the toy in my stocking could be a lovely crescent moon.