On the third day of Christmas

We semimythical coyotes may have mentioned a time or two that we are minor deities in a North American pantheon unrelated to Christmas. In fact, we predate it. That said, we ain't averse to Christmas presents. Specially the edible ones.

So. Picture my immense bafflement joy upon finding that some of my most valued friends had chipped in to buy me a thoughtful gift of a fluffy polar fleece blanket. As advertised on TV. With sleeves in it. One for each leg, actually. What were they thinking???? I gladly accepted it in the spirit in which it was given.

And imagine, if you will, my further mumblemuttermumble glee on Boxing Day, when I found - completely by accident - that they had been so conniving thoughtful as to order it specially custom-made, with my monogram on it. No hope of returning that sucker. I shall treasure it forever.

To my dear, dear friends who drunk-dialed the shopping channel at three A.M. searched high and low to find ol' coyote such a perfect gift, I just want y'all to know that it moves me so deeply, I'm already mulling how to return the favour next HannuKwanzaChristmas.

And don't go saying, "Awwwww, shucks, coyote, old buddy! Pish-tosh! Forget it! No need to go to all that trouble!"

I really want to. From the bottom of my grateful heart. And I know where you live...