I wish you a happy Christmas
It was December 22, a Saturday and the last weekend before Christmas. She was doing some last minute shopping. After doing her shopping, she walked with her son to the artificial snow-covered hut in the middle of the mall. She had promised her son that she could visit Santa.
His son was eight years old; tall and lanky like his father. He had dark brown hair and gray-green eyes, a hint of freckles on his cheeks, and a wistful smile. His voice was hoarse for such a young child, leading many people to refer to him as the “little man”.
Since his father’s untimely and sudden death seven months earlier, he had tried to take his father’s place by volunteering for extra duties around the ranch and his once boyish manner quickly gave way to an assumed adult demeanor. .
Juggling her packages she gently pushed her son forward as the elf attendant informed them that it was their son’s turn to sit with Santa.
He couldn’t hear what the mall Santa Claus and his son were saying, but he couldn’t help but notice his son’s expression. His gray-green eyes glistened with unshed tears and his lips trembled as he nodded in response to something Santa said. An elf with a camera told his son to smile while he took a couple of photos. His son looked past the camera. Thoughts of him miles away. The only one who smiled was Santa.
Once in the car, he asked his son what he had told Santa he wanted for Christmas. She turned her head to the window. Her words bounced off the glass with a dull echo. “I want to tell Dad that I love him. I want him to hug me and say, ‘I love you, man!’ when he tucks me in at night.”
He tried to breathe past the painful lump in his throat. “I know, honey. We didn’t get to say our goodbyes. We weren’t there to hug him and savor the goodness of him one last time… I’m sorry, honey.”
He lowered his head. “Me too,” she murmured in her husky little boy’s voice. The hour it took to get home was quiet.
***
That night, while they were decorating the tree, a storm swept over the flat ridge, howling with snow-laden clouds and howling winds. Soon heavy, wet snow was hitting the windows and icy fingers of wind were creeping under the doors and into the house.
“We’d better get the horses checked out. I’m worried this storm will scare the mare who’s due to foal at any moment. And I want to make sure the hens are well penned.”
“Okay, mom. I’ll see how the chickens are doing.” She picked up the boxes of ornaments from the floor and placed them on the nearby couch. “We can get to the rest of this later.”
She cast a proud look at her son. “Yes, my little man. We can.” She grabbed her coats and scarves from the rack. They bundled up and went out.
The barn roof light was of little help as gusts of wind blew thick folds of snow everywhere. Pushing against the damp and cold, he reached the barn, pushed back the restraining bar, and entered. She turned on the lights and took a relaxing breath. Suddenly everything was calmer and calmer inside. She scanned the stalls. Everything was at peace. The horses were fine. The pregnant mare dropped her head to the half-door of the stable and snorted in welcome.
He opened the door to the chicken coops and warm air brushed past him. Heat lamps were on, bathing the chickens in a red glow. They settled down for the night. Some sleeping, while others clucked softly in the shadows. He pulled the scarf tight around his neck as he closed and secured the coop. As he turned toward the barn, a sound stopped him in his tracks.
There in the stormy snow was a dark shape. A moaning sound came from the trembling creature. The boy approached cautiously. He saw a black ball of fur. His head shook as he groaned pitifully.
The wind died down and the boy could see the animal better. “Come here, dog.” He coaxed gently. He crouched closer to the dog and held out his hand. The black dog slowly stood up, then came over and licked the boy’s hand. Extending his arms, the boy called the dog. With a jump, the dog crawled into his arms, while he licked the boy’s face.
He puts his mother right outside the barn door. She gasped deeply as she saw her child and the child in her arms.
“What have you got there?” She knew it, but it took her by surprise.
“We can enter?” she implored, looking at the dog. “He is freezing here.”
“Hmm.” She nodded and hurried her and her son towards the house.
Closing the front door behind her, she faced her son. “Let’s take a better look at him, okay?” She moved closer, then wrinkled her nose. She will need a hot bath. Then some food and water.
He smiled and ran off with the dog. Within moments the bath tub was filling with water and he could hear his son talking reassuringly to the dog.
Half an hour later the son and the dog came out. She studied the dog that was now closely following his son. He was medium-sized, bright-eyed…and smiling.
He watched as the dog ate. “Your father had a black dog and he loved him very much. He used to tell me stories about him. He said his name was Jeremy.”
He nodded to the dog. Can we keep it?
He didn’t have to think long about his question. She hadn’t seen her son this lively in months. “Sure. What are you going to call him?”
His son paused and then gave his answer. “Co-worker.”
For the next two days, boy and dog were inseparable. They played and worked together. When it was time for bed, Buddy followed the boy into the bedroom, jumped on the bed, and settled in for the night.
Christmas Eve before the boy fell asleep, Buddy squirmed towards him, put his paws on the boy’s shoulders and snuggled against him. The boy hugged him tightly and Buddy covered his smiling face with dog kisses. “I love you,” he whispered, and then fell asleep cradling the black dog in his arms.
On Christmas morning, the boy woke up to find that Buddy was gone. He quickly changed his clothes and then ran out of his room, calling out to Buddy. He couldn’t find Buddy in the house, so he ran off.
There in the snow were paw prints. Buddy’s. She followed the tracks, calling to the dog… when suddenly the tracks disappeared. He cocked his head, “Oh!” he stammered with a giggle. Then he took a deep breath. “Oh,” he said again as understanding of him washed over him. He tilted his head and whispered, “Thank you…”
Hearing her son scream as he ran through the house, she ran after him. When she reached him, she looked down, following the boy’s gaze.
She studied the prints, puzzled. “Where’s Buddy? Did you find him?”
The boy reached out and took his mother’s hand. “I’ll tell you when we get in.” With a slight tug, he pulled her toward the house. He had begun to snow. “Come on mom.”
He looked at the tracks again. Snow quickly filled the depressions, obscuring the dog’s path. He turned to his son.
He was pushing her faster toward the house. He looked back at her and a bright smile spread across her face. “I’ll give you the race back.” She let go of her hand and ran across the yard. When she reached the porch, she covered her head with her arms and let out a great cry.
Behind his mother, a tall, lanky figure bowed just as a smaller, darker figure ran toward him. “Okay, dog, Jeremy. Come on!” The black dog writhed in the man’s arms. “You did good, boy!” The man smiled, and there was a sparkle in his green eyes. He then turned into the swirling snow and disappeared.
***
Copyright © 2003 by Kathy Pippig Harris