Hi, this is Oliver. I’m taking over my dad’s blog again—because honestly, these humans need supervision, and I’m the only one in this household qualified to provide emotional clarity during the holidays. So here it goes.

This year has been… a lot.

As for me? My biggest struggle has been trying very hard not to pee or poop outside of the pee pad. Hey, cut me some slack; I’m a puppy still learning the basics of etiquette!

For my humans — Papa and Dada — this year has been heavy in ways that even a wise, very fluffy dog like me can feel.

So today, I’m writing to Santa Paws for my holiday wishes.

Dear Santa Paws,

Hi! It’s me, Oliver.

I’m your favorite Yorkie and the reason you have an “extra treats” category in your sleigh.

I know you’re very busy making chew toys, snacks, and questionable sweater choices for pets all around the world, but I have a special request — not for me, but for my humans.

My Papa and Dada have had a year that would make even you want to take a nap in a heated dog bed.

Papa got sick.

Then, Dada’s mother passed away in October, and I watched his heart break a little more each day.

Just ten days later, Papa’s father also passed away.

That was the moment the whole house felt quiet, as if even the walls were trying to hold their breath.

Despite all of this, they still woke up every morning to take care of me, feed me, love me, and pretend that I’m not the one holding this family together.

So Santa Paws, this year, I have just one big holiday wish with a few smaller sub-wishes (yes, for a puppy, I’m very organized):

1. Please give my humans rest

Not the kind of rest where one merely sits, thinking about everything. Real rest. The kind where the world softens, and their bodies finally feel safe enough to let go.

2. Please bring them joy again — even the small kind

A cup of coffee they actually get to finish.
A quiet morning without rushing.
A random burst of laughter because I did something ridiculous (which I will, obviously).
Joy doesn’t have to be big.
Often, it shows up quietly, waiting for us to notice

3. Remind them they’re doing enough

They have been carrying a heavy burden of grief, uncertainty, and responsibility. Yet, they still support each other—and me. From my usual spot, which is often the warmest place between them, I can see that they are already doing more than enough.

4. Help them be kind to themselves

They’re great at giving love, Santa. But taking some of that kindness for themselves? That’s not their strength. I truly believe they deserve it—deeply, fully, every day. That’s all I wanted to say. Okay, fine—maybe I could use one squeaky toy for emotional balance too.

One Last Holiday Wish Before I Let Papa Edit This

If you take away anything from my little holiday takeover, let it be this:

Humans often forget to rest, while dogs do not.
Humans forget that they’ve been through a lot, but dogs always notice.
Humans forget that grief takes time; dogs simply stay close until it softens.

Both my humans—my Papa and my Dada—have had a year that requires softness, slowness, and more care than they realize they deserve.

So if you’re reading this:

Please take the time to rest.
Please remember to breathe.
Please allow joy in, even if it’s just a tiny bit.

I’ll be here, watching over them… and over you too, if you need it.

Love, Oliver. Woof.