Emily is celebrating Christmas with us for the first time.

A Christmas Time Report: Emily is fitting in well and gathering the threads of power at our house into her paws. She sits, shakes hands, responds to the stay command and will usually even come when we call to her in from the yard. I say usually because there are many distractions in our wooded back yard. How she can disappear from view in such a small place amazes us. This is when she is likely digging foxholes.

At last, she is no longer afraid of the “doggie door” and can come and go as she pleases. But this is not for our convenience. She often chooses to exit when our training efforts become exasperating and I suspect she goes outside so that when she returns I will rub her down with a towel on cold or rainy nights.

She is a sound sleeper, rises early with us around seven, eats her breakfast, and wanders once around the backyard. She then stakes out a spot in line with our breakfast room window to see if any of our leavings are placed in her bowl. We usually save her a spoonful of whatever we are having-caviar, Cheereos, what have you. This satisfies her and she is off to our bedroom and her crate, only stirring when its time to gnaw on the one expensive oriental rug we own. Its fringe is gradually disappearing.

You are anxious, I am sure, to know what she watches on TV. Well, virtually nothing. As my friend Jerry used to say, “Dogs don’t know anything about television.” Sound is another matter. When the critters roar on our wildlife shows she comes in to investigate. By midmorning she is on my case for a game of hide-and-go seek. She pretends not to see me behind the same red oak where I hide every morning and takes off like a blue blaze when I jump out. Then its time for some fetch. This only works when treats are awarded after every retrieve.

On these morning adventures, I am discovering that she is bringing her stuffed toys outside and shredding them at her leisure. I find these pitifully mangled, small mammal look-a-likes in damp heaps here and there, casualties of our obsession with dogs. First she identifies and removes the “guaranteed chew proof” hide to get at the squeeker. Then, little by little, these bullet- proof babies that cost a pretty penny are ingested. Labs are notorious about chewing up stuffed animals, decorative pillows and the occasional furniture cushion. Do not trust the “chew-proof” labels.

I have decided that Emily needs a pet and have been looking for a miniature lab. As every lab enthusiast knows, there is no such creature. Labs are a certain height and weight as defined by the American Kennel Club, which organization also lavishes praise on this most popular of American dogs. They are so popular, the AKC seldom crowns them champion in the big dog shows, choosing to give awards to breeds no one has ever heard of. The Punjabi curley-coated sight hound and such.

It seems like the terriers are the darlings of the arena. They adorn most of the dogfood bags at Publix and are most often featured on our Saturday morning episodes of “Lucky Dog.” Which has me thinking. What with all the expensive designer mixed breeds of labs and poodles, labs and beagles, etc., maybe someone has managed to produce a tiny dog that looks like a lab.

My search has not been without profit. Indeed, I have found such a “Tiny Lab” and will be introducing her to you in the near future. You are not going to believe your eyes.