A Doggy Christmas

by Andrew McDonald

“Sit pretty Max.” Mark smiled as the dog sat up on his haunches, front paws out as his long pink tongue dripped a bit of drool. The dog eyes danced with gleeful anticipation. “Good boy,” Mark said with a grin. Ruffling his retriever’s furry head, he proffered the dog treat he had been holding. Max happily, but gently, snatched it from his fingers with a silly grin. Turning, the dog darted to the back door where he waited expectantly for his owner to let him out. The dog’s soulful eyes were almost reproachful as he looked over his shoulder as if saying, “Today please.”

“You need out boy?” Mark opened the door, grinning as the ninety pound golden retriever darted out, heading directly for the large oak tree in the middle of the yard. Max jumped up, placing his paws on the bole of the tree and poked his muzzle at a knothole. Withdrawing his head, Max sat on his haunches and let out a bark before heading to sniff along the fence line.

”What is Max doing? Crazy dog keeps poking his head in that knothole.”

“I don’t know, dear, but it’s cold out there,” his wife, Sara, replied. “Close the door and have a cup of coffee.”

Shivering, Mark looked out at the light dusting of snow blanketing the back yard. There were a large number of muddled paw prints creating meandering trails, but most were in a circle around Max’s favorite tree.

A squirrel poked his head around the tree trunk as Mark looked out. Darting upward to a handy branch, the squirrel faced toward where Max was sniffing at a particularly intriguing patch of dirt, paws scrabbling like he was digging for buried treasure. Perhaps a bone set aside for later, or maybe that missing sandal Sara had been looking for. The squirrel puffed out his cheeks and chattered happily. Max stopped his pawing momentarily and looked up. Letting out a happy woof at this furry interloper, Max returned to his digging—tail wagging in time with his dancing rear as the squirrel ran circles around the oak.

Mark closed the door, shutting out the cold early Christmas morning breeze. Giving Sara a peck on the cheek and a pat on the butt, at which his lovely wife smiled, he sat at the breakfast nook. Sara rubbed his shoulders for a few seconds, and placed a kiss on the top of his head, before sitting down across from him. The steaming cup of coffee was a delight to both his cold hands and his nostrils. For a moment he just cradled the mug and took in the scent of hot Colombian nectar.

What could be better?, Mark thought as he enjoyed the rush of love and coffee. Christmas morning in the bosom of my home. The love of my life sitting here with me, looking as radiantly beautiful as the day I married her thirty years ago, a crackling fire in the fireplace, and a dog to pet.

”Mark Jr and Michelle will be here soon, dear. Gotta be ready to hand out presents to the grandkids.”

That answers that, Mark thought. He loved his grandkids fiercely and nothing was better than watching them tear into their presents. Nothing but the hugs and smiles they gave in return. Taking another sip of the aromatic brew, he looked at the tree shining with red, blue and green lights. Tinsel glittered and shimmered in the glow from the topper. He smiled as he noted the ornaments Sally, Mark III, and Elizabeth had made from Elbow Macaroni noodles. Nothing says I love you like a macaroni angel. Presents were piled under the tree - a psychedelic treasure trove waiting to be plundered.

Setting his mug down, Mark headed to the bedroom to get his customary furry red hat. As he pulled the Santa hat onto his head the doorbell rang. Mark listened happily as Sara greeted their son and his wife. The grandkids—three, five, and seven years old—ran gleefully to the tree, exclaiming at the gifts. Sara’s tinkling laugh accompanied Mark Jr.’s admonishment to be patient. Mark grinned happily.

“Grandpa!” the kids yelled as he came out.

Mark extended his arms and squatted to accept the small arms which hugged him around the neck. His world was perfect. “Ho, ho, ho,” he said. “Merry Christmas.”

At that moment there came a scrabbling noise punctuated by a bang on the back door. “Guess Max wants back in,” Mark said with a grin. Carefully removing Elizabeth from his knee, Mark headed to the back door where he let the gamboling, grinning dog back in.

After licking each child liberally on their laughing faces and accepting pats from Mark Jr. and Michelle, Max ran directly to the kitchen island where Mark had set the box of dog treats. Plopping his butt down he lolled out his tongue. “You want another treat boy? Fine. It’s Christmas.” Max’s tail wagged and thumped against the hardwood floor as Mark extracted another treat.

Upon receiving the milk bone, Max again ran to the back door. When Mark opened it, the golden retriever darted back out into the snow and ran straight to the oak. Jumping up once more, Max placed his muzzle to the hole in the trunk. Mark shook his head, watching as the dog once more let out a woof and sat down. The squirrel above chattered some more, like he was scolding the dog for messing with his home. As Mark watched, the squirrel darted back down the trunk and disappeared into the hole while Max happily watched.

In the toasty house Mark exclaimed, “Present time,” turning back to his family.

“Yay!” Sally exclaimed, clapping her little hands as the three children ran to the tree.

……

As the humans inside opened their gifts, dappled morning sun illuminated the burrow in the old oak. Inside her comfy nest the squirrel, chattering happily through puffy cheeks, picked up her own Christmas presents and headed to where her hungry kits waited for the milk bones. Picking up the little silver bell the squirrel had dropped on the ground at the base of the tree, Max chuffed out a happy bark. Present jingling in his mouth, Max headed back to door, eager to curl up by the fire and enjoy his Christmas kibble in the bosom of his beloved humans.