AUTHORS NOTE: Look, I know it's early. I own a goddamn calendar. This was just a thing we had to do for LA, some Christmas story thing that was required. I'm entering it in some contest, so PLEASE don't steal this. If you do, I will personally go to your house. Scoop your eyeballs out with a rusty spoon. Marinate them, then shove them down your throat. And that's only if I'm in a good mood. I know it's short, but that's only because the contest people thought it a good idea to have a 500 word limit. This is passed 500 words! Bloody hell, I hate people sometimes... But yes, please review, don't flame, all that sort of stuff. This is my FIRST FanFiction, so BE NICE. Or ROT IN HELL.

'Food! Food!' was all I could think as I zoomed around the house, nothing but a flurry of fur and drool. I ran from room to room, yipping excitedly as I followed the trail of deliciousness my nose was mapping out for me; leaving a trail of drool in my wake as my nose was bombarded by smells rich and sweet.

This was my favorite time of the year, as the strange lights went up and delicious smells filled the air. It was super-uper-duper fun…though I don't like the weird white fluffy stuff much. That…wet cold blanket that covers the ground, cutting me off from the soft fresh grass and the poop I like to roll around in. It's awful' pretty though, and I like to watch through the seeing-glass as the strange cold flakes rain down. Anyways …where was I again? Ahh, yes! The smells! The sweet aromas that filled the air and made me drool two times my water weight…Mmmm…Oh! I almost forgot! My name is Hanatamago, and despite what people may think, dogs aren't as stupid as they seem! We're actually probably smarter than most humans~! ...well, Americans anyway... I was interrupted from my short-attention-span induced monologue by the gong-like sound of the cookie pan hitting the counter.

I yipped with excitement, kicking back into gear as I raced to the kitchen as fast as the slippery floor would allow, scrabbling for purchase on the glossy boards. My nails made click-clacking sounds as I came to a halt behind The-One-They-Call-Tino, content to wait for dropped scraps or for Tino to walk away- if only for a second so I could grab those delicious…creamy…sweet...sugar-filled cookies…I continued to focus on those delicious…cookies, and only them as I sat unaware of my growing puddle of drool, dead to the world. I whined, begging as I wriggled anxiously...

I turned slightly when I heard a light scuffle…Who was it?! I would have whipped around and guarded those cookies life and limb-I mean…the people…Yes…my owners…had the familiar scent of The-One-They-Call-Peter not reached my nose. Peter? I like Peter! He fed me table scraps when the other's weren't looking, and-wait, what was he doing? He seemed to be trying to move soundlessly, creeping up on Tino from behind with a grin that could only be described as mischievous. Tino, however, stood unaware, oblivious to the drooling dog and impish boy as he continued to knead and roll the dough…the delicious…gooey…savory dough.

I stared in rapture as Peter, as quick as a squirrel, nabbed a wad of dough the size of his head, twirling around with a victorious whoop. He raised the dough as if It were Simba from the Lion King, howling with victory as he made his get-away…well, ALMOST made his get-away. He had seemed to forget…Or maybe he hadn't noticed in the first place…the giant puddle of drool oozing steadily across the floor. Well…let's just say his battle-cry-of-triumph soon turned to a very girlish scream as he toppled to the floor. I ignored both Peter's 'Ewww' of disgust, and Tino's comically surprised expression as I trotted over to where Peter lay, proceeding to gobble the dough out of his hand. It was just as soft and gooey as I had imagined maybe even more so, and it tasted of heaven…No…It tasted of victory.