Hey Mom and Dad,

Guess who saved Christmas in Spencerville? Yours truly, Sammy! AKA your secret fur-ball superhero! It seems my paws are like magic – bringing joy & barks back to the town. Turns out, I’m more than just handsome; I’m the heart of our family and friends. Mighty angel adventure taught me I’m a legacy-leaver. Who knew? Merry Christmas! 🎄❤️

Wags & licks,
Samson 🐾

Listen to the story here

’Twas Christmas Eve in Spencerville – crisp snow blanketing the cream Maltese Meadow, a frosty silence reigning where merry barks should have resounded. Quite unbecoming for one normally abuzz with jollity, I, Sammy, sat with a furrowed brow upon the peak of North Chihuahua Castle, surveying the still town below. That loyal tail of mine lay motionless, a rarity deserving of the town crier’s bellow, were he not on holiday leave himself.

Truth be told – and since it’s you, I shall be candid – I was in a bit of a pickle. One where the brine was more sour than the postman’s ill-conceived lemon treats. The joyous festivities and anticipated reunion with my beloved family of yore had stalled within me like a bone lodged in the throat. I couldn’t fathom my significance any longer, not even to my dear friends Tucker and Bella, or to the humans who had embellished my stripes with their love.

As night drew its curtains, a peculiar figure approached. A guardian angel, they said they were — clad in fur that shimmered like fresh snow under a gibbous moon, eyes holding the softness of Pooched Potatoes’ most delicate morsels.

“I’m not in need of more companions,” I grumbled, barely glancing up. “What I need is… an understanding.”

The guardian angel, unfazed by my less-than-rousing welcome, simply nodded, warmth in the gaze. “Then perchance an understanding you shall receive.”

Whisked away upon wintry winds, we found ourselves looking through the pane of an ordinary household, though to me, it was nothing short of the Sistine Chapel — the place where my heart first found its rhythm. Faces of my family flickered in the soft glow of their Christmas tree, a canopy of memories above them.

“They’ve been less, since you were no longer around their ankles,” the angel murmured.

I peeked closer. Indeed, the laughter was subdued, the joy not quite reaching the eyes as it used to when I would nuzzle their hands with my nose.

Next, we flew to Tucker’s yard, where the little Jack Russell once challenged me to tug-of-wars till stars peppered the sky. Now, Tucker lay curled in his bed, a forlorn squeak toy resting untouched by his paw.

“Barely barks anymore,” I said, a twinge of something — regret? sadness? — tightening my chest.

Bella’s home was our final stop. From her favorite window seat, the eyes that once shone with the luster of the Prancing Poodle Statue looked out with a dimness that matched the muted street lamps. My guardian angel leaned close. “The harmonious chorus you three formed, it sang of camaraderie and the simple love between creatures. It’s silent now.”

As we drifted back to the castle’s pinnacle, the nighttime seemed to hush more deeply, as if holding its breath for my verdict.

“All this,” I murmured, tail giving a tentative wag, “it’s because… I mattered?”

“Indeed,” the angel replied. “Our worth is often like the tastiest morsel hiding at the bottom of the bowl – we devour everything above, oblivious to what lies beneath.”

With a knowing flick of the tail, the guardian angel departed. Left with a heart beginning to understand, I watched Spencerville awaken to a snowy Christmas morn. Love, I realized, was not finite nor lost with absence – it was a legacy I had woven into the fabric of each life I had touched.

With that epiphany, my tail resumed its faithful wagging, my face split with a pant that resembled a broad smile. This Christmas in Spencerville, the truth was as clear and heartening as a morning walk through dew-kissed grass: I am Sammy, a very good boy who left indelible paw prints on the hearts I’ve warmed.

Indeed, it was a wonderful bark.

The End.