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It was early in the evening, the day before Christmas.
Winter darkness
had just settled in, and the canopy overhead was heavy with
storm
clouds.
As Terrence entered the hallway, a brisk zephyr blew 'round
him and in
to the living room. He paused, as he had done for the last
five years,
expecting to hear the lively click of nails on polished
wood. He'd then
turn towards the hallway, smiling, arms outstretched, before
bending
down to welcome his furry girl, Mazy.
He still smiled, thinking he was hearing the
fast-approaching Black Lab.
Her happy, panted greeting was the sunlight at the end of
his workday.
But, as the months wore on he managed to stop himself from
bending down
to welcome her wriggling body in a loving embrace. She'd
been gone a
year now, but some habits of the heart are hard to break.
A stiffer breeze gusted through the entryway. Terrence
leaned back on
the door to close it just as Tammy, Terrence's wife, entered
the room.
Noting the sudden look of sadness on her husband's face she
hurried over
to him and hugged him tightly.
"I miss her, too. She loved Christmas!"
Terrence swallowed hard over a knot in his throat, hugged
his wife back,
and nodded.
~*~
He first saw Mazy while on a home call for his job. He had
been looking
for a client's address in an older, industrial part of town.
He had
driven past an auto body parts business, and she was running
the length
and back of the small enclosure she was fenced in. There was
no grass in
the pen, only dirt and a metal feeding dish. Every time a
vehicle drove
by, she'd run with it, smiling, tail wagging, until she hit
the back
fence. She'd then bounce around and run to the other end.
She seemed frantic to find a friend in the passing cars. Her
behavior
haunted Terrence, so after he finished his home call
Terrence drove by
the business, hoping to speak with the owners about the dog.
The office
was closed for the lunch hour.
Before taking off, Terrence took down the number of the
business. When
he got back to the office, he dialed the number and spoke
with the
receptionist. He learned that the dog was kept there all the
time and
had been there for just under a year. He told the
receptionist that
should the owner decide to get rid of the dog, he would love
to be
notified.
Two weeks before Christmas Terrence got a phone call. The
owners of the
auto parts yard had sold the business. They could no longer
keep the
Black Lab -- did he still want her?
She came home as an early Christmas gift. She had never been
given a
name. Tammy named her Mazy.
They spoiled her that first Christmas and Mazy ate it up.
Tammy had hung
a stocking on the mantelpiece for Mazy and come Christmas
morn, Mazy
quietly walked over to the stocking filled with doggie
goodies, and
gently pulled it off the hook. She then padded over to
Terrence and held
the stocking out for him.
Terrence thought Mazy wanted him to pull the little doo-dads
out of the
stocking so she could have them. So, Terrence took the
stocking and laid
it on the floor, tipping out some of the contents, then sat
back so he
could watch Mazy enjoy her gifts.
To his surprise, Mazy nosed the items that had rolled out,
back into the
stocking, then she gripped the stocking in her teeth and
handed it back
to Terrence. Her gift to him. When Terrence glanced over at
his wife
they both chuckled while at the same time blinking back
happy tears. The
true gift that Christmas had been the welcoming of Mazy into
their
family.
Blessed with a loving, giving spirit, Mazy became a therapy
dog, at the
urging of Mazy's obedience trainer. Doug was a close family
friend and
suggested that Tammy bring Mazy along on one of their
visits. Doug
volunteered with a group from the local SPCA and every
Thursday they
visited one of the convalescent hospitals. Each person
brought their dog
and Doug felt Mazy would be an ideal addition to their
group.
Mazy was a natural in the art of caring and brightening the
spirits of
the residents they visited. She became very popular and had
attracted
the interest of the press. During the Christmas holidays, a
year ago, a
local television station did a special on therapy dogs and
the benefits
they bestow on patients in care facilities. Mazy was the
star of the
show and had garnered an even greater following.
Soon thereafter, while Terrence was at work and Tammy out on
errands,
someone had broken the lock on the backyard gate and when
Tammy got
home, Mazy was gone. All efforts to locate her were
unsuccessful and the
loss of their gentle fur girl was a wound that dug deep into
their
hearts.
~*~
"Come on into the family room. I have two steaming mugs of
chocolate and
Irish Cream waiting for us in front of the fireplace. You
can build a
fire and we will relax before the guests arrive later."
Terrence followed his wife into the room. From the stack of
wood near
the hearth he prepared the fireplace. As he bent over he
heard, again,
that familiar sound of nails and paws on wood. He shook his
head, just
as a weight dropped on his shoulders and back. Tammy gasped
loudly and
Terrence spun around.
Mazy covered his face with sloppy kisses and doggy-breathed
pants.
Terrence threw his arms around his furry girl. It was a
dream. A dream,
surely. He heard the rustling of paper at his ear and drew
back. There
in Mazy's collar was a handwritten note.
Terrence sat back on his heels, gazed into Mazy's warm brown
eyes. A
cold draft filled the room. The front door was ajar, the
porch light on.
The sound of a car pulling out of their driveway faded as
Terrence read
the note.
~*~
"I have a feeling your Christmas just got merrier, and mine
a little
sadder. Over six years ago my wife, Donna, found an ebony
colored pup on
our doorstep. She doted on her and the pup became a member
of our
family.
"As the pup grew, she'd often disappear for days at a time.
Frantic at
first, we would chase after her, search for her everywhere.
Each time
we'd find her in the company of a human who, for various
reasons, was in
need of a friend. She did this so often we started calling
her Chasy.
One day she did not return.
"Eighteen months ago Donna was diagnosed with cancer. On
Christmas Day
of last year your Black Lab scratched on our front door. She
looked so
much like our Chasy; I started calling her by that name. She
and my wife
were inseparable until her death three days ago.
"After the funeral, Mazy took a small Christmas stocking off
the mantel,
came over and laid it in my lap. She whimpered, then trotted
to the
front door and scratched at it to be let out.
"I opened the door. Mazy walked over to the hedges and began
digging. In
a few moments she returned--a dirty collar in her mouth. She
then made
soft talking sounds and dropped the collar at my feet.
"As I picked it up I noticed two grimy tags; a license tag
and an ID
tag. Mazy... I couldn't believe it. Her name so like our
Chasy's. I
looked from the tag to the Black Lab before me. Mazy's
expression went
from hopeful to wistful.
"Mazy leaned into me, her weight against my legs like the
embrace of an
old friend. She looked up at me and I knew her visit was
over--she
wanted to go home.
"After everyone left I called Mazy over to me. I had cleaned
her collar
and the tags jingled brightly as I slipped it over her head.
I then bent
down and sobbed into her shiny fur.
"It was a quiet ride for the two of us, as I drove to your
place. When I
reached over to open the door to let Mazy out, she nudged my
wrist,
licked my hand, and sighed.
"In my sadness and grief, I had forgotten this letter. I
pulled the note
out of my shirt pocket to write the final words. I finished
and glanced
at Mazy. She extended her head, urging me to place the note
in her
collar as we had practiced.
"Thank you, from a stranger who's been warmed by sunlight,
wrapped in
the shiniest black fur I have ever seen. Welcome her well.
When you hug
her, please hug her for me. I couldn't do so to say good-bye
for fear
I'd not let her go."
Tammy took the note and as she began to read, Terrence sank
his hands
into the warm ruff of Mazy's neck and hugged her long, and
well.
"Do you still have that stocking?" he asked his wife.
"I sure do," her answer, said with a huge smile.
Mazy wagged her tail and she smiled, too.
Copyright (c) 2005 by Kathy Pippig Harris
kappi00@aim.com
!!!!**!!!!
Kappi
Kathy is a published author. She finds inspiration for her
novels, short
stories, and poems from her family, her job, her life's
experiences --
from a diagnosis of cancer, to a diagnosis of life, and from
the furry
loved ones who share her world. And she thanks God for them
all.
And homeless near a thousand homes I stood,
And near a thousand tables pined and wanted food.
~ Wordsworth |
