Sing We Noel
The year of my tenth birthday marked the first time that our
entire family had jobs. Dad had been laid off from his regular
employment, but found painting and carpentry work all around
town. Mom sewed fancy dresses and baked pies for folks of means
and I worked after school and weekends for Mrs. Brenner, a
neighbor who raised cocker spaniels. I loved my job, especially
the care and feeding of her frisky litters of puppies. Proudly,
I gave my earnings to Mom to help out, but the job was such fun,
I would have worked for no pay at all.
I was content during these "hard times" to wear thrift shop
dresses and faded jeans. I waved good-by to puppies going to
fancy homes with no remorse. But that all changed when the
Christmas litter arrived in the puppy house. These six would be
the last available pups until after Christmas.
As I stepped into the house for their first feeding, my
heart did a flip flop. One shiny red puppy with sad brown eyes
wagged her tail and bounced forward to greet me.
"Looks as if you have a friend already," Mrs. Brenner
chuckled. "You'll be in charge of her feedings."
"Noel," I whispered, holding the pup close to my heart,
sensing instantly that she was something special. Each day that
followed forged an inexplicable bond between us.
Christmas was approaching, and one night, at dinner, I was
bubbling over about all of Noel's special qualities for about the
hundredth time.
"Listen, Kiddo," Dad put down his fork. "Perhaps someday you
can have a puppy of your own, but now times are very hard. You
know I've been laid off at the plant. If it wasn't for the job
I've had this month remodeling Mrs. Brenner's kitchen, I don't
know what we'd do."
"I know, Dad, I know." I couldn't bear the pained expression
on his face.
"We'll have to brave it out this year," he sighed.
By Christmas Eve, only Noel and a large male remained.
"They're being picked up later," Mrs. Brenner explained. "I know
the family taking Noel," she continued. She'll be raised with
tons of love."
No one could love her as much as I did, I thought. No one.
"Can you come tomorrow morning? I'll be weaning new pups
the day after Christmas. Mop the floor with pine, and spread
fresh bedding for the new litter. Would you be a dear and feed
the kennel dogs too? I'll have a house full of guests. Oh, and
ask your Dad to stop over with you. One of the kitchen cabinet
doors needs a little adjustment. He did such a beautiful job that
I'1l enjoy showing it off!"
I nodded my head, barely able to focus on her words. The new
puppies would be cute, but there'd never be another Noel. Never.
The thought of someone else raising my puppy was almost too much
to bear.
Christmas morning, after church, we opened our meager gifts.
Mom modeled the apron I made her in home economics with a flair
befitting a Paris gown. Dad raved about the watchband I gave
him. It wasn't even real leather, but he replaced his frayed
band and admired it as if it was golden. He handed me the book
"Beautiful Joe," and I hugged them both. They had no gifts for
each other. What a sad Christmas, with all of us pretending that
it wasn't.
After breakfast, Dad and I changed clothes to go to Mrs.
Brenner's. On our short walk, we chatted and waved to passing
neighbors, each of us deliberately avoiding the subjects of
Christmas and puppies.
Dad waved good-by as he headed toward the Brenner's kitchen
door. I walked directly to the puppy house in the back yard. It
was strangely silent, no puppy growls, tiny barks nor rustling
paper. It felt as sad and dreary as I did. My head gave the
order to begin cleaning, but in my heart I wanted to sit down on
the lonely floor and bawl.
It's funny looking back at childhood days. Some events are
fuzzy, the details sketchy and faces indistinct. But I remember
returning home that Christmas afternoon so clearly; entering the
kitchen with the aroma of pot roast simmering on the stove, Mom
clearing her throat and calling to Dad who suddenly appeared in
the dining room doorway.
With an odd huskiness in his voice, he whispered, "Merry
Christmas, Kiddo," and smiling, he gently placed Noel, clad in a
red bow, into my arms. My parent's love for me merged with my
overwhelming love for Noel and sprang from my heart, like a
sparkling fountain of joy. At that moment, it became, without a
doubt, absolutely the most wonderful Christmas I have ever had.
By Toni Fulco |
