It’s that time of year. The corgis have written their annual Christmas letters and thought they’d share:

Leia’s Christmas letter:

I know the world can’t wait to read about my experiences this year, so I’ll try not to be brief. After all, my name is Princess Leia. I know what “Princess” means. It means I can do what I want, when I want. And there isn’t a thing you can do about it. So sit down a while and prepare to be wowed by my tale (and my tail–it’s so cute and tiny!)

The year started out with some really fun stuff. There were boxes everywhere. Everywhere I turned, there was a box to sit in! Soon, though, stuff started getting packed away, and that was no fun, fun, fun!

Then our people told us they had to sell the house and we were too messy, messy, messy! They made us stay with our friend Buster the Boxer. Boy, did I get to practice being bossy. Not only did I get to boss around my brother, but I also got to boss around an eighty-pound boxer. He has a laundry basket full of toys, and get this: he thinks they belong to him—ha! Just like he thinks his food dish belongs to him.

Nope. Buster’s food dish, Yoda’s food dish, and my food dish all belong to me. And I ate from all of them, too! When my person finally came back to get me, I was a little rotund ball of happiness.

Who cares if Yoda lost weight because I wouldn’t let him eat? All that matters is me, me, me! Right?

Well anyway, then we moved to this new place. The yard is much bigger, and there are animals everywhere. The great thing I learned is that I have spring allergies that make my eyes water. I get to take this thing called medicine, which my person gives me as a ball of cheese. There’s nothing better, I tell you!

The first thing I did at the new place is light out after a deer. I ran past one, two, three people’s yards… all the way to the tree line. It was only then that I realized my person was screaming at me. I turned around and ran back. I thought I was going to be yelled at, so I immediately plopped down onto the ground and rolled over on my back. That melts my person’s heart, and she never yells at me. Then I followed her around all day and snuggled whenever possible just to make sure there was no yelling.

What was my stupid brother doing all this time? Did he take the opportunity to chase the deer with me? Of course not. He just howled at our person and sat at her feet like a stinky little fraidy dog. Hmph! He makes me look like the bad dog!

Anyway, besides animals to chase (because we got these stupid collars that scare me if I run too far. Haha! I ran down the battery on that thing real fast!), there are stinky piles to roll in. I basically have to get a bath every weekend. I’m proud of it, what can I say? I also found several dead things, mostly bugs, but one of them was bigger than a bug. My person is looking at me now, saying it’s not decent to write details about dead things I found (and played with), seeing as this is a Christmas letter.

Speaking of Christmas, my person bought us a bag of rawhide bones for Christmas. We smelled her gift, of course, and demanded that she give us the bones right away. She was all like “okay, just one each,” but we took care of that. Why, just this morning, she gave us the last of the bones from that bag. And it isn’t even Christmas yet! I’ll bet you two peanut butter cookies she goes out and buys us another bag before long. She says they’re from Target—she finally found “made in U.S.A. bones there.” Whatever that means. As long as she buys more, I’m happy.

The last thing that happened was the snow. At first I loved, loved, loved it! But then a thing called ice came and made a crusty layer that I was just heavy enough to fall through—but slowly, not quickly like my bigger brother. I was afraid, so I ended up doing my business on the patio. My person didn’t like that, but she has to remember that I’m in charge, not her. BOL!

Well, my brother is sitting here at the keyboard, so I guess I’d better let him write his Christmas letter. He’s a boring fraidy dog, though, so it’s probably going to be a stupid letter. You should just read mine again.

Merry Christmas to you, and don’t forget to send me Christmas treats!

Love,
Leia Corgi

Yoda’s Christmas letter:

I thought I’d start off this letter by warning you of all the scary things I’ve encountered this year: Leia, boxes, water, anything crinkly, bubble wrap, moving trucks, Buster, Leia, food dishes that are made of plastic, stuffed dog toys, foil, hats, costumes, stink bugs, ceramic ducks, dead animals my sister found, food dishes that are made of metal, books, bottles, baking pans, Howl-o-ween costumes, pizza boxes, Christmas trees, printers, and Leia.

Here are things that are not scary from this year: dried leaves (they are good to eat), rawhide bones, dog food, treats, blankets, leashes, and cuddling.

A lot of stuff happened this year, but right now, I’m sitting on my person’s lap, I’m in a warm house, I’ve had breakfast, and I’m being scratched behind the ears. My sister is on the floor not bullying me for once, and all is right with the world. I wish everyone was so lucky as me, to have a warm person with a lap to sit on and to be scratched behind the ears, and to feel how content the world is at times like these.

So all I can say is best wishes for a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Love,

Yoda Corgi