The Search for Christmas

‘Christmas! Christmas! That’s all I hear about these days,’ grumbled the Basset, treading on his ear. ‘Whatever it is, if it’s more than two feet tall, I can’t do anything about it. It will have to find its own way around.’

‘I hope it bounces!’ sang the Pomeranian, demonstrating vigorously, but no one listened to him because he was still very young and rather brainless.

‘I’m going to the beauty parlour to get ready for it,’ said the Poodle smugly, ‘so it must be someone important.’

‘What’s a beauty parlour? asked the Pom.

‘Oh, clipping and combing, pulling and powdering – all that jazz,’ replied the Poodle. ‘You’ll find out when you’re older. Right now I’d better make the best of the time that’s left,’ and she trotted off, giving a naughty laugh, in French.

‘You ought to know what Christmas is,’ said the Basset to the Great Dane.

‘Why should I know?’ asked the Great Dane.

‘You just look as if you ought to know,’ said the Basset irritably, treading on his other ear.

‘You’re treading on your ear,’ remarked the Pom.

‘Oh, am I?’ said the Basset. ‘I do beg your pardon. Do you know what Christmas is?’ he asked the Dachshund.

‘Mmm-m-m!’ said the Dachshund, and sat down for a long, long think.

‘Maybe it’s a new chair,’ muttered the Basset. ‘I’ve heard them talking about Christmas chair...’

‘Poof!’ interrupted the Alsatian. Everyone sat up attentively for, as you know, Alsatians are often in touch with the Police and may have access to secret information.

‘We’d better all go home,’ he advised, ‘and try to find out more about it. ‘We’ll meet again tomorrow, same time, same place.’

The Basset put his nose down and went through his house like a vacuum cleaner, looking for Christmas. The Poodle went to the beauty parlour and did her best to listen through the cotton wool in her ears. The Great Dane found a tree in his house and was told to go outside and find a tree of his own. The Pom had such a wonderful time wrecking decorations she forgot what she was looking for. The Alsatian took secret notes in short-paw and the Dachshund had a long, long look.

When the friends met again at their favourite place in the park, between the signs Keep off the grass and No dogs allowed, they all had the same thing to report. Christmas was something about giving.

‘Everyone gives someone something,’ summarised the Alsatian, consulting his notes, which he had written on his tummy for safekeeping.

‘Thought as much,’ said the Basset gloomily. ‘What have we to give anyone?’

They all thought the same thought. Bones! Lovely smelly buried treasure bones!

‘No good,’ said the Basset, treading on both ears at once. ‘Tried giving them bones years ago. Didn’t appreciate it.’

‘Well,’ said the Poodle, ‘there’s that dog behind the garage. She hasn’t got anything.’

‘She has too,’ piped the Pom. ‘She’s got puppies in the storm drain.’

‘That’s not very good,’ frowned  the Great Dane, ‘It’s going to rain.’

By the time they found the dog behind the garage, it was raining hard.

‘Hey!’ they called to her. ‘Do you want some bones?’

Not much more than bones herself, the mother dog was hauling the last of her four puppies out of the flooded storm drain. They all rushed to help her but, frightened, she snarled at them.

‘All right, all right!’ soothed the Alsatian. ‘I’m the Police, come to render assistance.’

They gathered up the shivering puppies and all took shelter under the Great Dane – all except the Dachshund who was mostly out in the rain. He gave a long, long sigh. ‘What do we do now?’

‘In my house,’ said the Alsatian, who was a trained observer, ‘there’s a red coat thing with white wool around the edges.’

‘So-o-o?’ yawned the Great Dane wetly.

‘It’s got a cap thing with a wool beard on it that would make a nice nest for the puppies.’

‘Not much good to us here if it’s over there,’ drooled the Basset sadly; but the Great Dane was frowning heavily at the Poodle.

‘Weren’t your ancestors smugglers’ dogs,’ asked the Great Dane. ‘Small boats slipping into coves, laden with contraband...’

‘Well, yes,’ admitted the Poodle uncomfortably, ‘but I don’t think girls ever...’

‘Of course they did,’ said the Great Dane briskly. ‘You run along and smuggle the cap thing.’

‘But I’ll be seen,’ wailed the Poodle, lifting a forepaw rather pathetically.

‘We’ll have to create a diversion,’ decided the Alsatian. ‘We’ll go to the front of the house and bark in our biggest voices.’

‘What about me?’ interrupted the Pom. ‘I haven’t got any biggest voices!’

‘You just stand there and look beautiful,’ advised the Alsatian, ‘while you,’ he indicated the Poodle, ‘nip in through the back and smuggle it.’

He looked thoughtfully at the Dachshund. ‘You’d better stay here,’ he decided, ‘and keep the family surrounded. Come on, men. This way! Let’s go!’

Outside the Alsatian’s house they took up strategic positions. The Alsatian waved his tail three times.

‘Boof!’ boomed the Great Dane.

‘Voetsak!’ shouted the Alsatian.

‘Wooof! Wooof!’ bayed the Basset.

‘Weef, weef!’ yelled the Pom, while out from the back of the house ran the Poodle, high-stepping though the mud, the crimson hood with its white beard trailing behind.

‘It belongs to someone,’ she said worriedly, when once more they were gathered around the mother dog and her shivering puppies. ‘It belongs to Sandy Claws or someone.’

‘Never mind,’ said the Alsatian smoothly. ‘We’re going to give it back. Now put the pups in and I’ll take one side and you,’ he said to the Great Dane, ‘take the other...’ The rest of his instructions became muffled as he and the Great Dane lifted the hood and moved awkwardly towards the houses, the puppies cradled and swinging between them and the mother trotting anxiously beneath. They dumped their burden on the very first doorstep.

‘Look what we’ve got for Christmas!’ squealed the children in delight. ‘Oh thank you, Mum! Thank you, Dad!’ and they hugged their astonished parents and the puppies all at once.

‘It worked!’ sang all the dogs together. ‘Christmas worked!’

But the little mother dog crept sadly away. She was thin and dirty and she had ugly, hairless scars where people had thrown burning sticks at her to chase her away. No one would want her.

‘Hey, wait! Come back! It’s Christmas!’ cried the other dogs, racing after her.

‘I’ll look after you,’ declared the Alsatian.

‘I’ll shelter you,’ rumbled the Great Dane.

‘I’ll take you to the beauty parlour,’ promised the Poodle.

‘I’ll talk to you,’ offered the Pom, and the Dachshund gave her a long, long wink.

Then all the children from all the houses, attracted by the noise, ran out calling, ‘There she is! There’s the mother! The puppies need their mother!’

‘I want her! I want her!’ they all cried at once. ‘Oh, isn’t she thin? Isn’t she sweet?’ And soon the mother dog was giving her puppies their first lesson in eating from a dish.

The rain stopped and the sun went down. The Christmas beetles tuned their fiddles and their bagpipes and the great Dog Star shone down with a smile so bright it seemed almost close to tears.

*******

Printed in Mutare SPCA News, 1972.