Santa Delivered. Winnie Destroyed.

Christmas this year came with a co-pilot, four very short legs, and absolutely no concept of moderation. Winnie, my mini dachshund, traveled out of county with me and fully committed to the holiday spirit. While I packed the usual human essentials, Winnie arrived with one goal in mind: celebrate everything. Every room. Every snack. Every person who made the mistake of sitting down.

Winnie is firmly convinced that Christmas is her season, and honestly, she makes a compelling case. Santa knew exactly where to find her this year, and he did not disappoint. Christmas morning brought tennis balls, bones, and the kind of joy that only a dachshund can experience, loud, wiggly, and slightly destructive. By the end of the day, three tennis balls were confirmed casualties. Not misplaced. Not lost under a couch. Completely skinned and split, their fuzzy layers peeled back with surgical precision. Sorry, Santa. She loved them too much.

Cookies were sampled. Crumbs were cleaned up faster than any vacuum could manage. Eggnog existed in the room, which Winnie interpreted as participation. She bounced from lap to lap, greeting guests like a tiny hostess with zero shame and unlimited confidence. At one point, she proudly paraded a tennis ball carcass through the living room, as if to show everyone just how successful Christmas had been.

Now that the decorations are slowly coming down and suitcases are back in closets, Winnie and I are attempting to work off the holidays. Or at least, I am. Winnie remains skeptical. She keeps checking the kitchen like the cookies might come back if she believes hard enough. While I’m easing back into routine, she is already looking ahead, boldly and optimistically, to the new year. 2026. A year she hopes will bring nothing but positivity, good health, and an even higher volume of tennis balls.

And not just any tennis balls. Bones are also high on her list. More bones. Bigger bones. Bones that require planning and commitment. Her goals are straightforward, achievable, and entirely chew-based.

As for me, my hopes are a little quieter but just as sincere. I’m hopeful that 2026 brings good health to everyone reading this, a little more patience, and a lot more moments worth laughing about. I’m especially hopeful for another exciting year from the newspaper, exciting in the best way. The kind of exciting that smells like dust and diesel, sounds like engines and announcers, and ends with sunburns, fair food, and great stories.

I’m looking forward to bringing you more shenanigans from the Lind Combine Derby, county fairs, the Ritzville Rodeo, the Lincoln County Rodeo, dirt bike racing, and whatever else decides to pop up on the calendar, because it always does. Yes, this includes city council meetings and commissioners. I know those don’t come with popcorn or bull fighters, but let’s be honest: some of the most memorable moments of the year happen under fluorescent lights with an agenda packet and a public comment period.

Through it all, Winnie will be right there. Riding shotgun. Supervising deadlines. Sleeping through interviews. Reminding me to step outside when the screen time gets heavy. She doesn’t care about deadlines or word counts, but she has a remarkable way of keeping things in perspective. If something goes wrong, she stretches, yawns, and finds a sunny spot on the floor, which honestly feels like solid advice for all of us.

She doesn’t make New Year’s resolutions, but she supports mine enthusiastically, especially the ones that involve more walks, more time outside, and more appreciation for the small things. She believes joy should be obvious, celebrations should be wholehearted, and tennis balls should be used until they no longer resemble tennis balls at all.

So here’s to you. As I write this, it’s 7 a.m., which is far too early for champagne or sparkling cider, so I’m raising a toast with coffee instead. To the new year. To you, my readers and friends. To the resolutions we make, knowing full well we won’t keep them, and to the ones we somehow do. To 2026, may it be kind, healthy, full of good stories, and just chaotic enough to keep things interesting. Cheers.