A Dog Named Christmas

by Greg Kincaid

  Christmas tilted his head and opened his sleepy green eyes. He looked at me and I’ll be darned if his black lips didn’t curl back into a smile. His tail lazily began to sweep to and fro. I had to admit, he was a good old dog. “Well, good night, Christmas, we’ll see you in the morning.” I put a blanket over Todd and turned off the light.

  “Mary Ann,” I called out softly, “I’m going to bed.”

  “I’ll be up in a few minutes, George,” I heard her say as I headed up the stairs. She said my name pleasantly, with all of the love she held for me in full flower.

  I brushed my teeth, hung my jeans on their hook, put my boots under the bed, turned out the light, got under the covers, and waited for Mary Ann. As I was just drifting off to sleep, I heard the steps. They came quicker than I expected and with a spryness that I thought was lost. My surprise did not stop there.

  She leaped onto the bed. When I reached out to touch her in the darkness, I felt warm fur in my hands. It was Christmas. “What in the world are you doing up here, old boy?” His tail thumped rhythmically and he felt warm against my legs. Slipping back down into bed, I decided not to make him move. What did it matter if he rested there for the night? I would be true to the program and be the best dog host possible, even if it was for only a short period of time.

  I had fallen asleep by the time Mary Ann came to bed. She nudged me awake.

  “George?” she asked.

  Coming out of my not-too-deep sleep, I leaned up on my elbow. “Yes, what is it, dear?”

  “I’m worried about you.”

  “Why is that?” I asked.

  “You seem to have made a friend here.”

  “So?”

  “George, when does Christmas end?”

  “On the twenty-sixth, of course. Why do you ask?”

  She pulled the covers around her shoulders, giggled softly to herself, and rolled over to sleep.

  THE NEXT MORNING, after I came in from doing my chores, I saw Todd on the phone in the kitchen as Mary Ann looked on.

  “How many are left, Hayley?” he asked. Todd struggled with a pencil, numbering each line on a piece of paper from one through sixteen. “Wait a minute, I’m writing it down.”

  Todd slowly called the numbers out as he went. “Twelve, thirteen.” Hayley Donaldson waited on him with great patience. Todd was now painstakingly writing a description of a dog on each line. I looked over his shoulder as he wrote in his crooked scrawl on the first line, “Huskee, Shiperd Mix, six, geerl.”

  My expression reflected exasperation with Todd’s spelling, but Mary Ann frowned and placed her finger over her lips as she shushed me.

  Christmas, the apparent crew chief of this operation, was at Todd’s feet, his tail sweeping across the floor in three-quarter time. You would have thought the dog had been born under our back porch. He was completely at home.

  All I could do was shake my head. This was going to take all morning and I was sure Hayley was plenty busy at the shelter. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Here, Todd, let me talk.” I gently pulled the phone away and said, “This is George, Hayley. Let me help you.”

  “You already have, Mr. McCray—more than you know! Our adoption program is going very well this year and we repeatedly hear ‘The McCrays sent us over.’ Now Todd tells me that you are going to find homes for all the dogs in the shelter for the holiday. We’re so pleased. That’s wonderful!”

  “Hayley, we’ll help, but I doubt we can find homes for all of them. There must be dozens left.”

  “With your family’s help, we’re down to twenty-eight, not counting quarantine.”

  “Go over what you have and we’ll see what we can do, but we can’t promise the shelter will be emptied out by Christmas.”

  Hayley went over the inventory of remaining adoptable dogs as I made out the list. After we hung up, I turned to Todd. “You think about where we might be able to place some dogs and I have some work to do.”

  After replacing a frayed electrical line to the heater on the stock tank, I came back inside for breakfast and to check on Todd’s progress. He had several pieces of paper and was trying to match up the dogs with prospective placements. He was up to line 14. His writing was deteriorating, but still legible. “Collee mix, geel, 7 … Merk and Cary.”

  As I headed in to wash up for breakfast, I considered putting a stop to this matchmaking. Perhaps this was getting out of hand. Having been placed in an uncomfortable position with this dog myself, why was I doing the same thing to my family and friends? I was also concerned that I was putting pressure on Todd. I looked in the mirror as I washed my hands and wondered what was the right thing to do. The man I saw didn’t know either, but could smell sausage and biscuits cooking and coffee brewing. The sound of silverware and dishes being hurriedly placed on the table told me that breakfast was about ready.

  After all these years of marriage, I still marveled at the way Mary Ann made breakfast come off the stove at the exact moment I turned the spigot off in that old sink.

  We sat down to eat, but Todd ignored his food. He was back on the phone with Hayley, getting more details together on the dogs. It appeared that they were becoming friends.

  “Yes, I named him Christmas. He’s right here beneath my feet. We’re going to find a home for each one.”

  “Todd!” I couldn’t help interjecting. “Quit telling her that! We can’t make that promise.”

  “I gotta go. My dad and I have lots of work to do.” Todd hung up the receiver and smiled. I had never seen him happier. He wasn’t feeling pressured—he was feeling the pure joy of doing the right thing. While I hadn’t planned on spending my day finding temporary homes for dogs, my misgivings melted away as I, like Todd, caught the spirit of Christmas. I jumped right in.

  “Hand me that list, Todd, and let’s start matching some dogs up. Mary Ann, you just call these people and tell them about their dog, and ask when they can pick it up. Don’t give them an opportunity to object or even think about it.”

  I noticed signs of protest on her face and headed her off. “This is a family project. Mary Ann, we need your help. Todd, what do you think about Hank? I’m sure he hasn’t picked out a dog yet. Let’s make it easy for him. You know a dairy farmer doesn’t need a dog that barks a lot. Something older and steady would suit Hank best.”

  Todd looked up and down the list until he saw the perfect match for Hank. He scribbled Hank’s name beside an entry for Sally. “Good choice?” he asked, flashing the list in front of my face.

  “I remember that lazy old coonhound. She wouldn’t even get up and walk over to see us. That’s a perfect choice for old Hank. None better. What we need now is a closer. Somebody who can make the deal happen, someone with unparalleled powers of persuasion, like a debate coach. Do you know anyone who will not accept no for an answer?”

  “You mean Mom?”

  “Perfect. She’s the one!” I turned abruptly to my wife and said, “Mary Ann, call Hank’s wife and tell her it’s a black and tan coonhound, female, twelve years old, likes all cows, but prefers Holsteins.”

  Mary Ann, it seemed, was also getting into the spirit. She moved toward the phone and resolutely began to dial the Fishers’ number.

  “Jean, this is Mary Ann. How are you this morning? Beautiful day, isn’t it? Is Hank done with his milking? Sure glad you came by yesterday. Say, Jean, George and Todd were just talking to the shelter and I guess they have a coon dog over there named Sally that still needs a home.” She paused and then went for the sale. “Are you and Hank still interested?”

  There was a long pause and Todd and I began to wonder.

  “Well, Jean, I’m sure George and Todd could pick her up for you and probably take her back too.”

  There was another pause and I moved closer to Mary Ann so I could hear the other end of the conversation. I could barely make out Jean’s voice. It was backpedaling at its worst: “We don’t have any dog food and we’re going to be gone an awful lot of Christmas Day and Hank is wor
ried about a strange dog bothering his cows.”

  I whispered to Mary Ann, “We’ll buy the dog food.”

  She pushed me away and turned her back to me. For some reason, like all wives, Mary Ann did not like me talking to her while she was on the phone.

  “Well, Jean, I do understand, you and Hank being at that point in your life. If you talk to Hank and he changes his mind, just give us a call. Merry Christmas.”

  Todd looked up at me, stupefied. “Dad, I don’t understand. Hank changed his mind. Why wouldn’t Hank want a dog for a few days?”

  There may not have been an answer that Todd would accept. It wouldn’t dawn on him that most of us tire of giving. “I don’t know, son. Maybe he has too many cows.” I knew that response was a fill-in-the-blank for most of us. If it wasn’t too many cows, it was too many kids, too much work, or too many problems.

  Although it was a hard lesson to learn, Todd was seeing for himself that there is seldom room at our own inn for others.

  There were two more calls that did not go well, either. I was beginning to wonder if this family project was going to work. Something inside me told me to leave it alone for now, but Todd would have none of that.

  “Jonathan will take the dogs. You call him. I know he will.”

  I called the number and spoke with my daughter-in-law.

  “Karen, this is George. We sure enjoyed seeing you and the boys last night. I hope you had a good time.”

  “Oh, George, we had a great time. The kids are still buzzing around here talking about the Christmas dog.”

  “Really?” I said, hoping she would volunteer more information without me having to ask.

  “Yes. In fact, the boys and Jonathan are on their way to the shelter as we speak.”

  “Say, Karen, would you mind repeating that to Todd? He’s right here and I think he would like to hear it too.”

  “Sure,” she said and I passed the receiver.

  The two of them spoke for a few moments and Todd was clearly pleased by his big brother’s commitment.

  Another call revealed that my daughter, Hannah, had apparently spent the morning sneaking a rather skittish German short-haired pointer named Baron from his cage and up into her apartment, where pets were not allowed. She was certain, however, that this rule did not apply to temporary houseguests. Being a well-educated accountant, she knows all about rules and contracts. Todd and I were sure she was right.

  By December 22 our family members had taken twelve dogs. Our neighbors and friends had taken several more, but there were still seventeen dogs left in the shelter and we were out of prospects.

  Todd didn’t seem worried. He grabbed the phone book and said he had a call or two to make. I left him alone as he headed to the barn. He returned an hour later with a big smile on his face and, though uncertain, I suspected that he convinced either the governor or the state legislature to adopt the remaining inhabitants of the Cherokee County Animal Shelter. The next vehicle that turned into our drive that day solved the mystery.

  Around two-thirty that afternoon, a television van found its way, with Todd’s help, to our rural home. I had seen it at the courthouse before with a big “5” on the side and the satellite antenna on top. At first, I thought it was lost or there had been an accident on the highway not far from our house, but then a woman I recognized as an anchor from channel 5 came to the front door.

  Todd yelled out, “Someone must be selling something!”

  “No, it’s a television truck.”

  “Oh, that’s for me,” Todd said calmly.

  It was then that I realized what Todd had been doing on the phone. We all went to the front door and welcomed our local celebrity with anxious glances. She introduced herself as Brenda Lewis and asked for Todd, who immediately stepped up and held out his hand.

  She smiled at him. “It’s nice to meet you in person, Todd. The station manager and I enjoyed talking with you this morning and we decided to follow your suggestion and do a story on the Adopt a Dog for Christmas program. Can we come in and talk with you about it?”

  “Yes, come in, please.”

  We sat on the sofa, by the fire. Brenda Lewis talked to Todd and shook Christmas’s paw and then asked me if I could turn up the volume on the Nat King Cole Christmas music Mary Ann had been listening to. Motioning to the cameraman, she began to tell her audience all about Adopt a Dog for Christmas. The camera panned to our family and Christmas on the sofa as she described Todd’s efforts. She told her viewers that the shelter was staying open late that night and would be open tomorrow morning until noon. As she walked to the end of the living room, the cameraman followed her and pointed the camera at all of the decorations in our house. She finished by saying in her best anchor voice, “Let’s all do what we can so Todd’s dream can come true. Please adopt a dog for Christmas!”

  The television crew shook our hands, told us the story would air at six o’clock and ten o’clock, and left. Naturally, we called everyone we knew to tell them that Todd would be on the news. Todd called Hayley at the shelter; she couldn’t believe her ears. The day seemed to drag on slowly as we carefully checked our watches to make sure we did not miss Todd’s marketing efforts. Finally, at six PM, Todd, Christmas, Mary Ann, and I all piled on the sofa and watched Brenda Lewis on the evening news. From that day forward, Todd became a great fan of channel 5.

  Around seven o’clock, after dinner, Jonathan and his kids arrived to show us their dogs. My grandsons were as excited as I had ever seen them. Everyone had watched the news and was kidding Todd about being a television celebrity. He seemed quiet and I thought something was bothering him. It’s not often that a young man like Todd can make a big difference in even one little corner of the world. The ten o’clock segment was the same as the six o’clock. Mary Ann and I went to bed excited and proud that our son and his adopted dog were now both famous.

  Christmas Eve arrived and chores still needed to be done. I came in through the back door. Todd was sprawled out on the kitchen floor, with Christmas snuggled up beside him. His headphones were on and his eyes were closed. I waited a few minutes, took off my hat and gloves, sat down at the kitchen table, and said loud enough for him to hear, “Good morning, Todd. Missed you for chores today. What are you doing?”

  He took his headphones off, stood up, and sat down with me at the table without saying a word. He folded his hands in his lap.

  “What’s wrong, Todd? Do you feel all right?”

  “Yeah, I was just wondering if all the other dogs were adopted.”

  “Me too. Let’s call Hayley and find out.”

  I waited for several rings but there was no answer. Had they decided to close early? I was about to hang up when Hayley, out of breath, answered the phone.

  “Cherokee County Animal Shelter, Hayley speaking.”

  “Hayley, this is George and Todd.”

  “George, we placed all the remaining dogs this morning! It’s been chaos. Our phones have been ringing off the hook. This friend of yours, the dairy farmer …”

  “You mean Hank?” I interrupted. Todd had heard Hayley’s news and was beaming.

  “That’s him. He was the first one in line this morning when we opened the doors. He took two!”

  Todd pumped the air with his fist and yelled out to his mother, “Hank took two dogs! We did it! Every dog in the shelter is gone!” Christmas began to bark excitedly as Mary Ann came rushing in. She, Todd, and Christmas did a little victory dance.

  “Thanks for everything, George. You and Todd did a good deed for our dogs.”

  Feeling a little embarrassed, I wanted Hayley to know that I had nothing to do with it. I called out to Todd in a voice Hayley could hear, “You did a good job, Todd.”

  I was going to wish Hayley a merry Christmas when she spoke again, but with a slightly disappointed tone. “Well, George, I said we found a place for all the dogs we had, but that’s not quite right. We still have one recent arrival in need of a home. A female. You don’t have to tell To
dd. I can come back tomorrow and feed her. It’s okay. I don’t want him to think he let us down. I know he tried so hard to find a home for all of the dogs.”

  “Can you stay open for another hour?” I asked.

  “There is something you should know before you head down here, George.”

  “What?”

  “She is about to have puppies.”

  WE COULD SEE deer in the meadow beyond the house and hear a hoot owl’s cry from the barnyard. But what I remember most about that afternoon was the exciting chill that lingered in the air beneath a cloudless sky. Something special was happening in our corner of the universe. Mary Ann, Todd, Christmas, and I were all crammed into the cab of my truck. We were headed to the shelter to get the last unadopted dog in Cherokee County, Kansas. I called Jonathan and he agreed to come out with his boys and help fix up a place in the barn for our newest guest. They had been planning to come for dinner and to open presents, but now they showed up early and got to work. As we left, they were dragging heat lamps out of the garage and rummaging through the house for old blankets and bowls.

  “Maybe we should just get into the shelter business,” I joked as we pulled out of our driveway. Todd seemed a little too pleased with that idea, so I had to add, “I’m kidding. Shelters don’t get paid for keeping dogs. They are not a money-making business.”

  He looked confused, so I tried to explain. “They are like a charity. There is no one to pay for keeping the dogs. The dogs don’t have owners to make payments.”

  He still looked puzzled. Before I realized it, I’d gone too far. “The dogs don’t have homes. That’s why they are at the shelter. Do you understand?”

  Todd was quiet. I thought Hayley had explained this to him before, but the only thing that sunk in was that the shelter kept lots of dogs. Until now, he had not quite figured out how or why the dogs got there. Finally, as he sorted it out in his mind, he asked, “Why don’t the dogs have owners?”