The summer between my second and third grade my family moved into a new house in Covina Hills, California. Dad was a general contractor, and he had designed and built our new custom home. When we lived at that house, my parents enjoyed entertaining, especially during the holidays. And while we lived at that house—until I turned thirteen and we moved to Havasu—my parents would buy a flocked Christmas tree for the living room. (Flocked trees were super trendy back then.)
Mom would decorate the tree with gold and turquoise ornaments, and we didn’t help decorate the tree, as we had the trees from our earlier childhood. Mom was particular when it came to placing the tree ornaments.
While Mom’s tree was pretty, it wasn’t my thing. I liked the idea of the old-fashioned Christmas trees, with handmade ornaments and strings of popcorn. So, my parents bought me my own little Christmas tree for my bedroom, one I could decorate myself.
Fast forward to the first year of my marriage in 1976. Don and I married in June of that year and moved into his apartment. The building didn’t allow animals. But one day at work, Don rescued a stray puppy who started chasing his truck. He tried to find the puppy a home. He did eventually—with us. We named her Pepper, and she was with us for 18 years.
It was as if Pepper knew we weren’t supposed to have animals at that apartment. She never barked when living there, and quietly used the dog door insert we attached to the glass door, so she could do her business on our small private patio. We lived in that apartment for less than a year, but we did celebrate one Christmas there.
That Christmas, Don’s and my first Christmas as a married couple, we bought a small tree and set it on a table next to the sofa and decorated it together. I remember I received my first Hallmark Ornament that year. Hallmark Christmas ornaments had only been around for three years at that time.
We also strung popcorn and cranberries for the tree. The proper way to string popcorn and cranberries, you string several inches of stale popcorn, and then one cranberry. Then the same amount of popcorn, another cranberry, and repeat.
One evening before Christmas, I am sitting by the tree with Don, enjoying the fragrance of pine, and listening to Christmas carols, when I look over at our lovely little Christmas tree and notice something odd. Instead of a strand of popcorn wrapping around the tree, there is just a string—with a cranberry every few inches.
I take a closer look. All the popcorn had been removed from the string. I look at our sweet Pepper, and I suddenly realize what must have happened. While we were at work, Pepper had jumped up on the sofa to get closer to the tree and then carefully nibbled off the popcorn. She did it without disturbing the tree. She didn’t tip it over or rip the string off the tree. No. She left the string with the cranberries wrapped around the tree while she enjoyed the popcorn.
Don and I had a good laugh. I was young, newly married, and hadn’t even considered the possibility of our unsupervised pup helping herself to the edibles on the tree while we were at work. I appreciated the fact that she hadn’t tipped the tree over or knocked off any of the other ornaments. I was impressed. It was also the last year we put popcorn on our Christmas tree.
(Above Photos: Pepper, Me in front of Mom’s tree-1967, Me decorating my tree-1967.)
