12/21/2025
Yesterday (Friday), I made a critical error in judgment. I bought an "Elf on the Shelf."
I thought it would be whimsical. I named him "Sparkles."
I placed Sparkles on the fireplace mantel, sitting casually with his legs crossed, looking festive.
Then, Moose entered the room.
Moose did his usual morning perimeter check. He sniffed the rug. He sniffed the sofa. He scanned the horizon.
Then, he locked eyes with Sparkles.
He froze.
His ears went back. His tail tucked.
He stretched his neck out like a turtle, sniffing the air furiously.
“Mother. There is a Tiny Man on the ledge. He has no scent. He has no soul.”
Moose let out a low, vibrating growl. Not aggressive, just... concerned.
He did a wide circle around the fireplace, keeping one eye glued to the doll. He refused to turn his back on it.
Phase 2: The Teleportation
I left the house for an hour to run errands. Before I left, I thought it would be funny to move Sparkles.
I moved him from the mantel to the top of the cookie jar on the kitchen counter.
I came home. Moose greeted me.
We walked into the kitchen.
Moose went to his water bowl.
Then, he looked up.
He saw Sparkles sitting on the cookie jar.
Moose stopped drinking mid-slurp. Water dribbled out of his jowls.
He looked at the empty mantel in the living room.
He looked back at the kitchen counter.
His brain broke.
“THE TINY MAN CAN TELEPORT. HE IS A WIZARD.”
Moose panicked.
He backed away from the counter, his paws skidding on the tile.
He barked. BOOF.
A deep, hollow bark that meant: “SHOW YOURSELF, DEMON!”
Phase 3: The Confrontation
Sparkles did not respond. Sparkles just smiled his painted smile.
Moose decided that the Tiny Man was guarding the cookies. This was an act of war.
Moose approached the counter. He is tall enough that he can look a countertop directly in the eye.
He stood nose-to-nose with the doll.
He poked it gently with his snout.
Sparkles wobbled.
Moose jumped back three feet, slipping on his own drool.
“HE MOVED! HE ATTACKED ME!”
Moose gathered his courage. He decided to end this.
He reached out with one giant paw. He tried to "swat" the wizard away.
But Moose has the dexterity of a bulldozer.
He didn't hit the elf. He hit the cookie jar.
CRASH.
The ceramic jar tipped over. The lid flew off.
Sparkles the Elf went airborne. He did a backflip and landed face-down in the dog’s water bowl.
Cookies scattered across the floor like deliciously baked landmines.
Moose stood over the wreckage.
He looked at the drowning Elf.
He looked at the cookies.
He made a command decision.
He ate the cookies first. (Priorities).
Then, he looked at Sparkles, who was now soggy and floating among the kibble bits.
Moose fished the doll out of the water with his teeth.
He walked into the living room, carrying the wet Elf like a trophy.
He dropped it on the rug.
He put one giant paw on the Elf’s chest to hold him down.
He looked at me with intense seriousness.
“I have captured the Wizard, Mother. He was guarding the treats. But I have neutralized the threat. He is damp now.”
The Aftermath
I had to throw Sparkles away. He was punctured. He smelled like dog breath.
Moose watched me put the doll in the trash can.
He sat by the trash can for two hours, just in case the Wizard tried to escape.
I am now cookie-less. My kitchen floor is sticky.
But Moose is sleeping soundly, twitching as he dreams of battling tiny red men.
I think I’m done with holiday traditions. Next year, we’re just putting a bow on the dog and calling it a day.
