The Night the Lights Went Out at Christmas

This isn’t the black dog that put out the lights. But she would if she could. The cords might be tasty.

Photo by Suna

Hear that midnight rooster crow

Well I’ll have one more before I go

But Honey, don't turn out the light

’Cause I think I’m in the mood for love tonight

—Robert Earl Keen

Last night, I came home from work hungry for my favorite Mexican restaurant. Beccano had already left to spend the night with a friend. TubaBoy and his friends had not yet arrived. So we waited.

I finally decided to call TubaBoy to find out when he and his crew would arrive. “We’re in the driveway,“ he said.

So they came in, and we left. The night was already cold and misty. I backed the truck out of the drive and turned around in the cul-de-sac.

As we pulled up to the stop sign, a large black dog appeared in the headlights. He was exploring the neighbor’s yard across from the end of our street. He jauntily approached a tree wrapped in Christmas lights and lifted his leg. As he jumped away from the tree, the lights went out.

Suna and I both laughed. “I bet he’s thinking, ‘That’s the first time a tree ever bit me!’”