Hey partner,

Just wanted to bark at ya that this Christmas, I played fetch with hope, tugged on the ropes of forgiveness, and served up a feast of friendship here in Spencerville. Remember, the heart of the holiday is warming even the chilliest of paws. Give a little, forgive a little, and keep your tail waggin’.

Merry Pawlidays,
Sandy Paws 🐾🎄

Listen to the story here

Well now, it being Christmas and all in the heart of Spencerville, and I reckon there ain’t no finer time to spin a yarn than when the air’s ripe with the scent of Pup-Cakes fresh from the oven, and the Fur Tacos – oh, them Fur Tacos! They do something mighty festive to your insides, let me tell ya.

Yessir, my name is Sandy and t’was another glitterin’ day in this here golden meadow of ours, with the Eastern White Westie Woods a’spangled in snow as if them trees decided to dress themselves up fine for the holidays. A dog could get lost in visions of sugarplums, or whatever fancy dancers prance in canine dreams, but not this puggle; no sir, I had other plans.

You see, Christmas in Spencerville ain’t just a hullabaloo of ribbons and wrapping. No, it’s more – a time for that warmth to fill our hearts, the very warmth that we done carried within us, the kind that my dearly missed caretakers fanned to a blaze with every pat and kind word. I was missin’ ’em something fierce, I don’t mind tellin’ ya, but that missin’ turned into a yearnin’ to spread some cheer around these parts.

Now, Duke, that old labrador, he’d been moping near Lower Dalmatian Desert, a frown upon his floppy face, couldn’t shake the blues. And Spark, y’know the terrier – sharper than a briar and twice as feisty – well, he was nursing a grudge ‘gainst some young pup over a bone of contention, quite literally, outside The Doggy Depot.

As I ambled by, I tells him, “Spark, ya know what our folks used to say? ‘At Christmas, all roads lead home,’ even if the journey’s taken on four legs ‘stead of two.”

Spark harrumphed but his eyes, they softened, as if them words spun a bit of magic.

Further I romped, over yonder to the Sprawling Park, and though that garden hose lay frozen in a curled-up hiss, I’d learned to skip by with nary a shiver. After all, what’s a hose to a heart brimming with yuletide spirit?

Now, my frayed rope toy, we’d pulled and yanked through seasons together I thought, might just bind us – a symbol-like, of how we gotta pull together, give a little, take a little. I fetched that slobber-laden testament to fellowship and plonked it right down ‘tween Duke and Spark.

“Look here, fellers,” I rumbled in my most festive bark. “Ain’t no sense lettin’ a perfectly good rope toy go to waste, and ain’t no sense harboring them hard feelings neither.”

Duke, he gazed down at that rope with his doleful eyes, and lo and behold, Spark, that critter’s maw twitched into a grin, near invisible ‘neath all that scruff but I seen it alright.

Together, we pawed and tugged at that rope under them twinkling Christmas lights strung high ‘cross the Spencerville skies. Stored up grievances flew away faster than snowflakes in a gust – for giving and forgiving ain’t so different when the spirit catches ya.

That eve, we all laid claim to a table at Furrific Fried Chicken, a feast fit for a king – or a pack of canines. We raised a clatter of toasts with bone-filled bowls, and Duke, he leaned o’er with a whisper, “Sandy, reckon I knew what Christmas was, but I plum forgot its feelin’ ’til now.”

And Spark chuckled, his voice gruff yet merry, “Guess it’s true what they say – Christmas is like peeing on your favorite tree; not so much the tree but the feel of lettin’ go.”

So, in the glow of hearth-fired lamplight, with bellies round and hearts fuller, we dogs of Spencerville tucked into bed with the knowledge that the joy of Christmas ain’t the feasting nor the play, but in the sharing of the warmth that never truly fades away – just like the love we bear our distant two-legged kin, a waitin’ in sweet hope of reunion once again.

Lordy, may all Christmas tails wag just as merrily.

The End.