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Dear Santa,

I know you’re busy putting the finishing touches on all the toys you’re going to deliver to the kids around the world in a couple of days.

And you also must be doing last-minute checks on the sleigh and your reindeer to make sure everything is in working order. You have a really big night coming up soon.

So I totally understand if you aren’t able to get to my request.

I’m not a kid, and on Christmas, they come first.

I’m cool with that. In fact I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Here’s the thing: I’ve fallen in love with those Mad Bomber Hats. You know the ones that make a person look really goofy? Like they’ve been living in some remote part of Canada for decades?

They have a bill and ear flaps and are usually lined with fur or fleece.

On those days in the pasture when I’m feeding our two old sweeties and the wind is like ice as it blows across the open field, I think one of those hats would be perfect. It would keep me really, really warm.

And honestly, I don’t think the horses would care one bit if I looked silly. They’re really good about not making judgments about people.

Or maybe they think we look silly no matter what we are wearing or doing.

Yeah, that’s probably more like it.

But anyway, I know they wouldn’t mind.

I’m not interested in the hats lined with rabbit fur. I don’t want a little rabbit giving up his fur for a silly old hat. What would Smoke (read here if you can’t remember who Smoke is) think if I showed up wearing one of his brothers or sisters?

That would not be good.

No, I’d be really happy with a fleece-lined hat.

So if you happen to have a mad bomber hat just lying around the shop, waiting to be packed into your toy bag, and it isn’t already spoken for.

Well, you know.

Maybe you could squeeze it in between world peace and goodwill toward man.

But only if there’s room….

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