Hey Amigo,

It’s me, José Joaquín, the tiny but mighty soul of Spencerville. Just learned I’ve been more than a paw-some friend in our story—turns out I’m kind of a furry angel lifting spirits as high as the Christmas star! Each wag and woof weaves joy into our lives. So, here’s to leaving bigger paw prints in hearts this holiday. Feliz Navidad & hugs!

🐾 JJ

Listen to the story here

Ah, Christmas Eve in Spencerville, a time when the air is thick with the scent of temptation – succulent roasts from kitchens at Pupsicle Palace that would make any canine’s heart sing. However, spirits weren’t high for me, José Joaquín, the Chihuahua with the molten chocolate gaze. Despite the seasonal cheer, a certain melancholy had settled in my bones, the kind not even a Spencerville sunbeam could chase away.

There I sat, upon the velvety sands of Boxer Beach, watching the waves crash with a biting fervor, much like my own inner turbulence. “If only,” I thought, stretching out a paw to the tide gently reaching for it, “if only I could grasp whether my tiny paw prints have ever truly made a mark upon the world.”

“What if,” a voice chimed in, unexpectedly, pulling me from my briny reverie, “I were to show you how tremendous those paw prints truly are?”

Turning my head, I beheld a figure that sparkled like dew on morning grass, a guardian angel, far more fetching than any I had pictured. Her fur glistened like starlight and her eyes held the wisdom of countless moons.

“Good evening, José. I am Angela,” she pronounced with a gracious nod. “I hear the echo of your heart’s quandary, and on this Christmas Eve, I am here to guide you through the wonders of your own story.”

With but a nuzzle of my ear, the world swirled before us, like a tempest overtaken by magic, and lo, we were whisked to a place that defied time and space. Atop the rolling hills of Collie Canyon, we gazed down upon snapshots of my past, a series of vignettes painting the panorama of my life.

First, there was Max, the ever-rambunctious Beagle, whom I had guided through his fear of tempests, his howls drowned by thunder. Through our racing and frolicking, I had shown him bravery.

“Oh, you do possess an insight most profound!” Angela murmured. “Your valor gave Max a voice louder than the storm.”

Next was Bella, the Greyhound, lean and lanky, who once lost herself in tall tales she no longer believed. With my small frame and even grander heart, I sat beside her, tails twined, as I regaled her with tails of my own — of squeaky toys vanquished and bones ferociously guarded. With every yarn, her spirit blossomed anew, her faith in fantasy restored.

“Never was there a tale too tall for those willing to listen,” said Angela with an approving smile that warmed me like my favorite sunspot on a brisk day.

Then, beyond the din of laughter and barks of Red Beagle Beach, we glimpsed shadows, my human family, their faces blurred yet warmed by a love, potent and boundless. I saw their joy and tears, their trials and triumphs, and realized that I was woven into the very fabric of their existence.

“Only a heart as receptive as yours could dance to the rhythm of human souls,” Angela whispered, her words like a soothing hymn.

As the night wore on and the vignettes of my life played out in celestial theater, a truth dawned upon me. Each step taken, each tail wag given, each bout of mischief and moments of solace — all of it had etched impressions upon the hearts of those I’d encountered. My smallest of statures belied the grandeur of my influence.

“Do you see now, José Joaquín?” asked Angela, her touch lighter than a snowflake upon my back, “Every life is a gift, and each gift you have given has shaped the world in ways you could never imagine.”

Thus, as the first rays of Christmas morning touched the horizon of Spencerville, I found myself standing alone on Boxer Beach once more, the memories of the night dancing before my eyes. A smile played upon my muzzle, knowing now the value of my presence in this grand tale called life.

With my heart buoyant and my spirit rekindled, I leapt from the sands, ready to weave more tales and leave bigger trails — for even a small Chihuahua named José Joaquín has wonders yet to unfurl in the joyful season of giving.

The End.