Ruralite Cafe: Published 01/02/03

By Lisa Majors-Duff - News Editor

A puppy for Christmas, Part II

I now know how puppies go about producing that warm, fuzzy feeling in people - they pee on your lap as you're driving them home at 10:30 p.m. on Christmas Eve.

There is another way, of course, a way that makes up for the warm, wet feeling I experienced as I played the part of one of Santa's elves.

The preferred way of achieving puppy-warmth nirvana is to watch your 8-year-old daughter nearly wet her pants when she finds a black and white pooch under the tree in her living room on Christmas morning.

Since Niki thankfully did not encounter any Scrooge-types dying to spill the beans about her new puppy, my child remained nervously in the dark about her intended gift. Our banter back and forth became a game - "Will he?" she'd ask. "I doubt it," I'd say.

But this was a game she was destined to win.

As the lights went out after the traditional reading of "'Twas the Night Before Christmas" beside the fireplace hearth, I began to set the scene. I pulled the new black-and-red plaid dog bed out of the closet, grabbed the note from Santa off the computer printer and found a safety pin. In the living room, I attached the note - which read: "Dear Niki, Since you've been such a good girl this year (a slight exaggeration), I've brought you my favorite puppy. Her name is Sadie. I hope you love her as much as I do. Love, Santa - to the bed and headed out the door.

Driving down the mountain at the start of my trip to retrieve the puppy, I was glad Niki had left that ninth carrot for Rudolph next to Santa's milk and cookies. The fog was thick in Balsam, so much so that I wished I'd had a reindeer abnormality attached to the front of the truck.

But as I approached Sylva, the fog thinned until stars in the night sky were all that sparkled above, making the remainder of the ride to Qualla uneventful.

Once I arrived at the puppy-sitters' residence (Mom and Dad's house), I was glad I'd brought the truck. The volume of "necessary" items this dog had collected in just over a week amazed me. Her bags, the white ones from Food Lion, were packed and placed beside the front door. They contained food, shampoo and conditioner, worm medicine, a new retractable leash, and toys, lots of toys.

"What are all these for?" I naively asked.

"So hopefully she'll chew on these and not on your shoes and furniture," was Mom's response.

The reality of puppy ownership began to set in with these words, but it took her next statement for the full weight of the situation to be felt.

"You have to watch her closely," Mom said, with no attempt to soften the blow. "She'll need to go out after she wakes up from her naps and after she eats or drinks anything. And she doesn't like to be left alone. So I don't know how you're going to keep her quiet until morning unless you let her sleep in your bed."

What has Santa gotten us into, I wondered.

After removing my puppy pee-stained jeans back home, I fell into bed, exhausted by the effort it took to make one little girl's Christmas a memorable one. And as I welcomed the oblivion of sleep, I hoped every child would awake to find the joy of the season.

Back to Archive: 01/02/03.