Count me among those who talk to their pets.

Many believe that pets cannot understand what we are saying, but they do. And they learn well.

So it came as little surprise on Christmas morning to have Cali the Dog listening in on a Christmas conversation.

Music came thumping from a house diagonal to the one in which we sat.

Another luxurious home in a new neighborhood of Denham Springs, La.

The sprawling town is a long football pass from Tiger Stadium. I thought they must be LSU fans to be partying like that before noon on Christmas. I was wrong. Seems no special occasion is needed.

“They party like that all the time,” Jeri, our hostess, said. “You would think they are young, but they’re not. It’s a lot of fun over there.”

Several hours later, the conversation broke and we headed to another party at another house. Cali the Dog stayed behind, in the same courtyard where we sat earlier. Certainly she thought as we did, “They sure can party.”

The high pitch of the William Tell Overture blaring from my cell phone startled our afternoon gathering. An unfamiliar phone number appeared.

“Um, yes, have you lost a dog?” the voice asked.

“I didn’t think so,” I replied. “Orange collar, weight problem and a limp?”

“That’s she.”

We got the address. It was near the house where we were that morning.

Brother Dan and I drove slowly through the neighborhood, looking for the address. So many houses so close together, but there it was with a blow-up Nativity in the front yard.

I knocked on the door. No answer.

I heard music coming from the back. I eased down the driveway, through a garage and past a blue sports car, a covered outdoor dining room, then the in-ground pool. There stood a table full of liquor a football field long. At one end a display of whiskey. Bottles of vodka and wine sat in the middle of the table, and at the other end …

Cali the Dog, eyes glued to the liquor.

It’s the only time I can remember her not even making an effort to come to me when I called.

She’d been partying with the neighbors.

Tell me she doesn’t understand.

We dragged her away from the liquor, loaded her into the car and secured her behind a closed door for the next several hours. The music could still be heard through the pool-house walls.

She didn’t say a word to me the entire drive home Thursday night.

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Sean P. Murphy is Web editor of The Vicksburg Post. Write to him at Box 821668, Vicksburg MS 39182, or e-mail smurphy@vicksburg.com.