When Mrs. Claus walked into the normal Friday Dog Party both Aileen and Tony bowed their heads in a very obvious attempt to avoid eye contact. If she didn’t have Peanut she would have turned around and left the park immediately. But Peanut needed her exercise and Mrs. Claus was resolved to find out what was going on even that she had a very good idea.
“What is it this time?” asked Mrs. Claus and poured herself a glass of mulled wine.
“What do you mean?” said Aileen.
Mrs. Claus hoped that Aileen didn’t play much poker because she was a very bad liar.
“Listen something is going on- just tell me,” said Mrs. Claus.
“There are some new pics with the two earthy crunchy chicks and your husband,” said Tony.
“Earthy crunchy?” asked Mrs. Claus.
“You know like modern hippies. Let their hair grow, vegetarian and wear natural fibers and all that,” said Tony.
“You know they are Scottish werewolves, don’t you?” said Mrs. Claus.
A woman Mrs. Claus hadn’t met yet stepped into their circle of conversation and introduced herself as Callie with Selkie, who was a Cairn terrier.
“Wulvers I believe, dear,” said Callie.
It had been a long time since someone had called Mrs. Claus dear, but she didn’t dwell on it as it was Berkeley after all.
“Yes, so I am told. From the Shetland islands,” said Mrs. Claus.
“Ah, you know your Scottish pantheon of magical beasts,” said Callie.
“I have recently become acquainted with them, yes,” said Mrs. Claus.
“Then you will know not to fuck with them and get that stubborn husband of yours to cooperate. Here,” said Callie with a straight but stern face.
Callie handed Mrs. Claus an iPhone, whisked up Selkie and disappeared from the Dog Party.
