One-shot: Zillah's Christmas Treat

Prompt: 092 Christmas

Summary: Zillah causes havoc when her family goes out for the evening.

Timing: Charlie's first Christmas at home after returning from England with Zillah.

Translation reminder: 'husse' is the human father of a dog.

-ZCT-

Even though they didn't really celebrate Christmas, every year Margaret Eppes took the festive season as an opportunity to spoil her family with baked goods. This year was special, since it was Charlie's first Christmas home since he'd gone to university in England.

Currently, Margaret was turning a batch of shortbread out onto a wire rack to cool. She was happy with the day's progress, even if a certain large dog had been by her side the entire time she was in the kitchen.

"Zillah!" Margaret tried to growl as she once again stepped on the hound's tail. Zillah didn't seem bothered, as she just started wagging the appendage as soon as it was freed.

"What's she done this time?" Charlie asked as he came in from the dining room, leaving his current project for the time being.

"Your pet keeps getting in the way," his mother rolled her eyes. Zillah just bounded over to get a pat from her husse.

"Her favourite place to be is underfoot," Charlie shrugged and scratched her ears.

"You've got that right," Margaret muttered and turned back to put the pan in the sink. "Why couldn't you get something smaller? Like an elephant?"

Charlie laughed and went over to give his mother a kiss on the cheek. They'd had this conversation often enough, and it always ended with Zillah getting a tummy-rub from Margaret. The matriarch of the family had gotten used to having the large dog in the house very quickly, and now even enjoyed the company.

"You two ready to go?" Alan asked as he entered the kitchen. They had planned to visit some old family friends for the evening.

"Just let me cover these," Margaret replied as she put tea-towels over the shortbread and assorted cakes. Charlie managed to drag Zillah outside and shut the back door behind her.

Soon they were all on their way to a fun evening with friends.

-ZCT-

They arrived home fairly late. Just as Alan was about to unlock the front door, he paused and held up a hand to quiet his family. From the other side, a noise could be heard.

*thump* *thump* *thump*

"Charlie," Alan fixed his youngest with a look. "I thought you shut Zillah outside."

"I did!" Charlie protested.

Alan unlocked the door and carefully opened it, to see Zillah sitting a few feet in front of him, tail thumping against the floor and looking very proud of herself.

"Zillah…" Charlie groaned. "How did you get in?"

Margaret smiled as Charlie pondered the question, but stopped when she got to the kitchen.

"Zillah!" She shouted, properly angry this time. "You rotten fleabag!"

Alan and Charlie ran to see what the problem was, to find an irate Margaret picking up empty cooling racks from the floor.

"How… how much did she get?" Alan asked in wonder.

"Three batches of shortbread, two Christmas cakes and a loaf of bread," Margaret scowled as she presented the now-empty bread bag. "When I get my hands on her…"

Charlie gulped and went to find his beloved Zillah. He knew that soon she'd start feeling ill, and didn't think she'd be doing herself any favours by vomiting in the house.

After a good deal of searching, he returned to his parents. Margaret seemed to have calmed down a little, but now Alan was angry – Zillah's claws had scratched the wooden bench-tops.

"Well?" Alan glared. "Where's the miscreant?"

"Hiding," Charlie smiled. "I think she knows she's in trouble. She managed to squeeze under the front porch. For such a large dog, she can get into some pretty small places."

"She'd better stay there," Alan growled, "or I'll turn her into a dog-skin rug."

"Gotcha," Charlie nodded, swallowing hard. He'd take her some water later to help her feel better. Until then… it was best for both of them to remain in hiding.

-ZCT-

A/N: Taken from a real incident, with my old dog, Tubby. He got into the house on Christmas Eve when we were all out at church, and ate 72 shortbread biscuits, a loaf of bread, a doughnut, and a fishfinger left over from my sister's dinner.

And he couldn't work out why he felt so ill and thirsty for the next week.

RIP Tubby.