Buddy heard the door fly open and went to see what was going on. Veronica was angry and nearly ripped the collar off of Jolene trying to get her unleashed. He walked over and gave the dog a pat on her head and took the leash from Veronica. He put it neatly on its hook.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“It’s your damn Santa Claus.”
“My Santa Claus? What did he do?”
“He’s a first-class prick,” she said and took in a deep breath.
“Yes, he’s not on your A-list. But what did he do? Did he hurt you?”
“He took my picture. One thing is Jolene, but you know how I feel about pictures.”
Buddy had found out the hard way that Veronica hated being photographed. The first time he tried to take a selfie of them both she put her hand up to intercept his arm as he raised it into position. She mentioned something about never taking pictures. He could see all he wanted in the real and there was no reason to snap a shot of her and definitely not a selfie.
“You’re not a fan. I know.”
“Damn right. And he took several after I asked him to keep his phone to himself and everything.”
“And you asked him nicely, or—“
“Of course I asked him nicely,” she snapped.
“Like that nicely?”
She paused for a second and answered, “Well, maybe, I was a little defensive.”
“Just a little?”
“Okay, a lot! But he is so irritating.”
“So what are we going to do?”
“We? We had this discussion already, Buddy.”
“Yes, we. I am part of this now, too.”
“I’ll take care of him. I just got a little overwrought today. That’s all,” said Veronica.
“It’s your thing, then.”
“Thanks, Buddy. Now please fix me something with alcohol- anything.”
Buddy walked toward the kitchen and decided to pay Santa a little visit. Apparently he wasn’t scared off by a little negative publicity.
Maybe it was time for a little heart-to-heart with the man in the red hat, thought Buddy.
