General Fiction posted December 14, 2021 |
Every Dog Should Have His Own Boy
Christmas Miracle
by Brett Matthew West
Four degrees below zero. The frigid temperature stood as the expected high in the Western Canadian province of Saskatchewan. Frozen spruce trees, jack pines, and balsam firs intermingled with bogs and fens, glistened beneath falling snow.
Above everything else in the whole wide world, 7-year-old Nathan Thistle had only one wish for Christmas. He wanted his little dog Wombat to come home.
In the letter Mrs. Thompson, his second grade teacher, had her class write to Santa Claus, Nathan's comments were, "Not a new puppy. And, not one that looks like him. Please, Santa, I'm being good! I want my Wombat back!"
The order was a mighty tall one indeed. Wombat had been missing for two weeks. The dog did not know his way around the still under construction neighborhood Nathan's family lived in. Not only was that not in the boy's, or Wombat's favor, everything about the area was foreign to both of them.
One thing Wombat had not liked was being uprooted to a strange environment. In six short months, Wombat had gone from Atlanta, Georgia to Caribou, Maine, and finally Saskatchewan.
Loud noises, strangers, and car rides were other dislikes. Wombat rarely traveled far from the screened-in back porch of his new home. Most of the time, Wombat romped around inside the mostly fenced yard, or cuddled up close to Nathan, who treated him like a spoiled rotten infant.
Nathan bragged to everyone he met, "Wombat sleeps with me in my bed. He always licks my face."
Nathan's mother, Leah Thistle, would chime in with a hearty, "They are unseperable companions. Wombat's like Nathan's teddy bear. He totes Wombat everywhere he goes."
Leah saw how sad Wombat's being gone made Nathan feel. She heard him cry himself to sleep at night. It was obvious Nathan missed his playmate more than words he could express.
One night, her worried husband Conner asked, "What are we going to do? Nathan specifically told us he does not want any other dog but Wombat."
Leah replied, "Each day, I have searched the neighborhood. I've been door to door and stopped people on the street I pass by. Just in case, I've even searched the nearby woods without any signs of Wombat. No one has seen him."
Conner told her, "I've posted on all the lost pet websites I can find online, as well as all the lost and found pages. How do people react when you talk to them on the street?"
Leah responded, "Understandably, people are busy this time of year, but they're sympathetic. There have been no solid leads that have turned anything up yet."
Nathan's father gathered him on the front swing to try to offer him a happy scenario. He waited for his son to settle down, then said, "Wombat's probably been taken in by some kind family."
"No! They can't have Wombat! He's all mine!" Nathan protested.
"Maybe an elderly lady who doesn't know how to use social media the way you do, took Wombat in and is giving him lots of affection like you get from your mother and me," his father suggested.
"That's a lie!" Nathan blurted out.
Hot tears streamed down his face. He raced off to the far corner of the property to be alone. His father let him go.
The more distraught Nathan grew over Wombat being gone, the more his mother worried. One day, she noticed a posted sign on the Pak N Go grocery store's door where she purchased the family's groceries.
In bold letters, the warning read "BEWARE! WOLVES HAVE BEEN SPOTTED IN THE AREA!"
Leah considered what Wombat, if he was still alive, must be going through. She wondered if he had been trapped by some hunter, or worse! If so, how long did it take Wombat to die? Leah mentioned her concerns to Conner as she folded Nathan's Underdog pajamas out of the boy's hearing range.
Conner looked at Leah and said, "It's a tough, dark, row for a boy to hoe."
*****
Ten miles away in the farmland on the north side of Saskatchewan, Becky Fulbright tended her team of huskies. For eight years she had been a competitive dogsled musher. Through many hours of hard work, Becky earned the trust of her pack and trained them well. She never minded the expenses of the heavy investment.
One night, Becky heard a persistent yap from outside her front door unlike the ruckus her huskies made. Curious, she went to investigate the disturbance. Becky discovered Wombat, cold and shivering from the elements, standing there.
Becky looked down and asked the little dog, "Where'd you come from? You must be starving. Well, come inside where it's warm and I'll feed you."
Wombat wagged his tail and trotted in behind his new-found friend. Becky poured him a bowl of food and sat it on the floor. She watched Wombat devour the kibbles. He danced happily on his hind legs. Becky picked Wombat up. He licked her warm neck.
"You belong to somebody," Becky told him. She paused a moment in deep contemplation. "Never seen you around these parts before though."
Becky placed Wombat down on the floor. He ran into the darkness. She turned to her partner and said, "Several newbies have recently moved into the area. I thought maybe the little feller belonged to one of them, saw me feed the huskies, and came over to investigate the scene."
The following night, Wombat returned to Becky's home again, and the next, and the one after that. Five days passed. Each time, Becky fed him, and each trip Wombat licked her neck in appreciation.
Like Leah had done before her, Becky went door to door asking if anyone owned the little dog. She posted about him on every app she could think of. Becky even monitored lost pet sites. She discovered no notices of any kind that described her dinner guest.
Scheming a plan to crate Wombat, and have him scanned for a microchip that would lead her to his rightful owner, Becky came to terms he belonged to somebody. Maybe even a heart-broken child who missed him. Dogs of Wombat's nature weren't typically part of the wild in her hang-out.
Becky told her co-workers at the Artagonia factory where she made ski clothes, "The way this dog behaves it's obvious he's used to being snuggled and inside around people. Someone out there somewhere loved him."
It wasn't long until Becky's plan to capture Wombat came to fruition. She opened her door. Like usual, Wombat trotted inside. Becky placed a clean, dry towel, and a bowl of fresh food, inside a crate and waited.
*****
Nathan still cried at night for his missing companion. He vowed he would never forget Wombat. Nathan's desire for Christmas lost its appeal. He never gave up hope Santa, or someone close to him, would be able to intervene and bring Wombat home where he belonged.
Nathan told his father, "Whoever has Wombat just doesn't wanna put his picture online cause they wanna keep him."
Though he never showed his skepticism, Conner wasn't completely convinced Wombat was in somebody's home.
December 23rd arrived. The last day of school before Nathan would be out on Christmas break. Leah dropped him off at the Carnation Central Elementary School, and walked back into her residence. The telephone rang. Leah picked up the receiver.
A strange woman she did not know asked, "Do you still live in Maine?"
Hesitently, Leah responded, "No. Why?"
"My name is Becky Fulbright, and-a, I have your dog," Becky said.
Leah exclaimed, "What? Wombat's alive? Where?"
Becky provided Leah her address.
Leah entered the information into MapQuest. The answer shocked her. Hardly able to speak, Leah told Becky, "I'm headed out the door now. I'll be there in thirty minutes to get him!"
Leah drove straight to the location Becky gave her. In haste, she got out of her 4X4 and knocked on the door. Becky opened it. Leah saw Wombat in the crate in Becky's bedroom. Ecstatic, he barked a happy greeting. There would be no way for Wombat to run off.
A pleased Becky smiled. "Gotta be the best feeling in the world."
Hardly able to speak the words Leah said, "I can't thank you enough, Becky. You just made my young son's Christmas wish come true."
Back home, Leah kept Wombat in the garage with the door closed so he couldn't wander out. She tied a red Christmas bow to Wombat's new collar. An unsuspecting Nathan arrived home from school.
Leah told Nathan, "Your father and I have an early Christmas present for you."
Nathan's eyes widened as his mother opened the garage door. "Wombat!" He exclaimed.
Wombat leapt up into Nathan's outstretched arms.
When Conner arrived home from work that night, Leah assured her husband, "You should have seen them together. They were so excited to see each other. Nathan has not left Wombat alone since."
Conner replied, "I am so stricken with Becky's generosity. To take the time and effort to see if Wombat had been microchipped showed how much she cared. It would have been easy for Becky to not worry about where he belonged. Not many people'll do what she did. Becky is definitely one of a kind. Tell me she accepted our invitation for Christmas dinner."
Nathan hugged Wombat tighter than he ever did before. He looked up at his father. The glow on his face radiated when he said, "She gave me my Christmas miracle!"
There was no argument where Wombat slept that night. The lesson learned the harshest of ways, Wombat strictly remained within the confines of the now completely fenced yard.
Christmas Story contest entry
Four degrees below zero. The frigid temperature stood as the expected high in the Western Canadian province of Saskatchewan. Frozen spruce trees, jack pines, and balsam firs intermingled with bogs and fens, glistened beneath falling snow.
Above everything else in the whole wide world, 7-year-old Nathan Thistle had only one wish for Christmas. He wanted his little dog Wombat to come home.
In the letter Mrs. Thompson, his second grade teacher, had her class write to Santa Claus, Nathan's comments were, "Not a new puppy. And, not one that looks like him. Please, Santa, I'm being good! I want my Wombat back!"
The order was a mighty tall one indeed. Wombat had been missing for two weeks. The dog did not know his way around the still under construction neighborhood Nathan's family lived in. Not only was that not in the boy's, or Wombat's favor, everything about the area was foreign to both of them.
One thing Wombat had not liked was being uprooted to a strange environment. In six short months, Wombat had gone from Atlanta, Georgia to Caribou, Maine, and finally Saskatchewan.
Loud noises, strangers, and car rides were other dislikes. Wombat rarely traveled far from the screened-in back porch of his new home. Most of the time, Wombat romped around inside the mostly fenced yard, or cuddled up close to Nathan, who treated him like a spoiled rotten infant.
Nathan bragged to everyone he met, "Wombat sleeps with me in my bed. He always licks my face."
Nathan's mother, Leah Thistle, would chime in with a hearty, "They are unseperable companions. Wombat's like Nathan's teddy bear. He totes Wombat everywhere he goes."
Leah saw how sad Wombat's being gone made Nathan feel. She heard him cry himself to sleep at night. It was obvious Nathan missed his playmate more than words he could express.
One night, her worried husband Conner asked, "What are we going to do? Nathan specifically told us he does not want any other dog but Wombat."
Leah replied, "Each day, I have searched the neighborhood. I've been door to door and stopped people on the street I pass by. Just in case, I've even searched the nearby woods without any signs of Wombat. No one has seen him."
Conner told her, "I've posted on all the lost pet websites I can find online, as well as all the lost and found pages. How do people react when you talk to them on the street?"
Leah responded, "Understandably, people are busy this time of year, but they're sympathetic. There have been no solid leads that have turned anything up yet."
Nathan's father gathered him on the front swing to try to offer him a happy scenario. He waited for his son to settle down, then said, "Wombat's probably been taken in by some kind family."
"No! They can't have Wombat! He's all mine!" Nathan protested.
"Maybe an elderly lady who doesn't know how to use social media the way you do, took Wombat in and is giving him lots of affection like you get from your mother and me," his father suggested.
"That's a lie!" Nathan blurted out.
Hot tears streamed down his face. He raced off to the far corner of the property to be alone. His father let him go.
The more distraught Nathan grew over Wombat being gone, the more his mother worried. One day, she noticed a posted sign on the Pak N Go grocery store's door where she purchased the family's groceries.
In bold letters, the warning read "BEWARE! WOLVES HAVE BEEN SPOTTED IN THE AREA!"
Leah considered what Wombat, if he was still alive, must be going through. She wondered if he had been trapped by some hunter, or worse! If so, how long did it take Wombat to die? Leah mentioned her concerns to Conner as she folded Nathan's Underdog pajamas out of the boy's hearing range.
Conner looked at Leah and said, "It's a tough, dark, row for a boy to hoe."
*****
Ten miles away in the farmland on the north side of Saskatchewan, Becky Fulbright tended her team of huskies. For eight years she had been a competitive dogsled musher. Through many hours of hard work, Becky earned the trust of her pack and trained them well. She never minded the expenses of the heavy investment.
One night, Becky heard a persistent yap from outside her front door unlike the ruckus her huskies made. Curious, she went to investigate the disturbance. Becky discovered Wombat, cold and shivering from the elements, standing there.
Becky looked down and asked the little dog, "Where'd you come from? You must be starving. Well, come inside where it's warm and I'll feed you."
Wombat wagged his tail and trotted in behind his new-found friend. Becky poured him a bowl of food and sat it on the floor. She watched Wombat devour the kibbles. He danced happily on his hind legs. Becky picked Wombat up. He licked her warm neck.
"You belong to somebody," Becky told him. She paused a moment in deep contemplation. "Never seen you around these parts before though."
Becky placed Wombat down on the floor. He ran into the darkness. She turned to her partner and said, "Several newbies have recently moved into the area. I thought maybe the little feller belonged to one of them, saw me feed the huskies, and came over to investigate the scene."
The following night, Wombat returned to Becky's home again, and the next, and the one after that. Five days passed. Each time, Becky fed him, and each trip Wombat licked her neck in appreciation.
Like Leah had done before her, Becky went door to door asking if anyone owned the little dog. She posted about him on every app she could think of. Becky even monitored lost pet sites. She discovered no notices of any kind that described her dinner guest.
Scheming a plan to crate Wombat, and have him scanned for a microchip that would lead her to his rightful owner, Becky came to terms he belonged to somebody. Maybe even a heart-broken child who missed him. Dogs of Wombat's nature weren't typically part of the wild in her hang-out.
Becky told her co-workers at the Artagonia factory where she made ski clothes, "The way this dog behaves it's obvious he's used to being snuggled and inside around people. Someone out there somewhere loved him."
It wasn't long until Becky's plan to capture Wombat came to fruition. She opened her door. Like usual, Wombat trotted inside. Becky placed a clean, dry towel, and a bowl of fresh food, inside a crate and waited.
*****
Nathan still cried at night for his missing companion. He vowed he would never forget Wombat. Nathan's desire for Christmas lost its appeal. He never gave up hope Santa, or someone close to him, would be able to intervene and bring Wombat home where he belonged.
Nathan told his father, "Whoever has Wombat just doesn't wanna put his picture online cause they wanna keep him."
Though he never showed his skepticism, Conner wasn't completely convinced Wombat was in somebody's home.
December 23rd arrived. The last day of school before Nathan would be out on Christmas break. Leah dropped him off at the Carnation Central Elementary School, and walked back into her residence. The telephone rang. Leah picked up the receiver.
A strange woman she did not know asked, "Do you still live in Maine?"
Hesitently, Leah responded, "No. Why?"
"My name is Becky Fulbright, and-a, I have your dog," Becky said.
Leah exclaimed, "What? Wombat's alive? Where?"
Becky provided Leah her address.
Leah entered the information into MapQuest. The answer shocked her. Hardly able to speak, Leah told Becky, "I'm headed out the door now. I'll be there in thirty minutes to get him!"
Leah drove straight to the location Becky gave her. In haste, she got out of her 4X4 and knocked on the door. Becky opened it. Leah saw Wombat in the crate in Becky's bedroom. Ecstatic, he barked a happy greeting. There would be no way for Wombat to run off.
A pleased Becky smiled. "Gotta be the best feeling in the world."
Hardly able to speak the words Leah said, "I can't thank you enough, Becky. You just made my young son's Christmas wish come true."
Back home, Leah kept Wombat in the garage with the door closed so he couldn't wander out. She tied a red Christmas bow to Wombat's new collar. An unsuspecting Nathan arrived home from school.
Leah told Nathan, "Your father and I have an early Christmas present for you."
Nathan's eyes widened as his mother opened the garage door. "Wombat!" He exclaimed.
Wombat leapt up into Nathan's outstretched arms.
When Conner arrived home from work that night, Leah assured her husband, "You should have seen them together. They were so excited to see each other. Nathan has not left Wombat alone since."
Conner replied, "I am so stricken with Becky's generosity. To take the time and effort to see if Wombat had been microchipped showed how much she cared. It would have been easy for Becky to not worry about where he belonged. Not many people'll do what she did. Becky is definitely one of a kind. Tell me she accepted our invitation for Christmas dinner."
Nathan hugged Wombat tighter than he ever did before. He looked up at his father. The glow on his face radiated when he said, "She gave me my Christmas miracle!"
There was no argument where Wombat slept that night. The lesson learned the harshest of ways, Wombat strictly remained within the confines of the now completely fenced yard.
Above everything else in the whole wide world, 7-year-old Nathan Thistle had only one wish for Christmas. He wanted his little dog Wombat to come home.
In the letter Mrs. Thompson, his second grade teacher, had her class write to Santa Claus, Nathan's comments were, "Not a new puppy. And, not one that looks like him. Please, Santa, I'm being good! I want my Wombat back!"
The order was a mighty tall one indeed. Wombat had been missing for two weeks. The dog did not know his way around the still under construction neighborhood Nathan's family lived in. Not only was that not in the boy's, or Wombat's favor, everything about the area was foreign to both of them.
One thing Wombat had not liked was being uprooted to a strange environment. In six short months, Wombat had gone from Atlanta, Georgia to Caribou, Maine, and finally Saskatchewan.
Loud noises, strangers, and car rides were other dislikes. Wombat rarely traveled far from the screened-in back porch of his new home. Most of the time, Wombat romped around inside the mostly fenced yard, or cuddled up close to Nathan, who treated him like a spoiled rotten infant.
Nathan bragged to everyone he met, "Wombat sleeps with me in my bed. He always licks my face."
Nathan's mother, Leah Thistle, would chime in with a hearty, "They are unseperable companions. Wombat's like Nathan's teddy bear. He totes Wombat everywhere he goes."
Leah saw how sad Wombat's being gone made Nathan feel. She heard him cry himself to sleep at night. It was obvious Nathan missed his playmate more than words he could express.
One night, her worried husband Conner asked, "What are we going to do? Nathan specifically told us he does not want any other dog but Wombat."
Leah replied, "Each day, I have searched the neighborhood. I've been door to door and stopped people on the street I pass by. Just in case, I've even searched the nearby woods without any signs of Wombat. No one has seen him."
Conner told her, "I've posted on all the lost pet websites I can find online, as well as all the lost and found pages. How do people react when you talk to them on the street?"
Leah responded, "Understandably, people are busy this time of year, but they're sympathetic. There have been no solid leads that have turned anything up yet."
Nathan's father gathered him on the front swing to try to offer him a happy scenario. He waited for his son to settle down, then said, "Wombat's probably been taken in by some kind family."
"No! They can't have Wombat! He's all mine!" Nathan protested.
"Maybe an elderly lady who doesn't know how to use social media the way you do, took Wombat in and is giving him lots of affection like you get from your mother and me," his father suggested.
"That's a lie!" Nathan blurted out.
Hot tears streamed down his face. He raced off to the far corner of the property to be alone. His father let him go.
The more distraught Nathan grew over Wombat being gone, the more his mother worried. One day, she noticed a posted sign on the Pak N Go grocery store's door where she purchased the family's groceries.
In bold letters, the warning read "BEWARE! WOLVES HAVE BEEN SPOTTED IN THE AREA!"
Leah considered what Wombat, if he was still alive, must be going through. She wondered if he had been trapped by some hunter, or worse! If so, how long did it take Wombat to die? Leah mentioned her concerns to Conner as she folded Nathan's Underdog pajamas out of the boy's hearing range.
Conner looked at Leah and said, "It's a tough, dark, row for a boy to hoe."
*****
Ten miles away in the farmland on the north side of Saskatchewan, Becky Fulbright tended her team of huskies. For eight years she had been a competitive dogsled musher. Through many hours of hard work, Becky earned the trust of her pack and trained them well. She never minded the expenses of the heavy investment.
One night, Becky heard a persistent yap from outside her front door unlike the ruckus her huskies made. Curious, she went to investigate the disturbance. Becky discovered Wombat, cold and shivering from the elements, standing there.
Becky looked down and asked the little dog, "Where'd you come from? You must be starving. Well, come inside where it's warm and I'll feed you."
Wombat wagged his tail and trotted in behind his new-found friend. Becky poured him a bowl of food and sat it on the floor. She watched Wombat devour the kibbles. He danced happily on his hind legs. Becky picked Wombat up. He licked her warm neck.
"You belong to somebody," Becky told him. She paused a moment in deep contemplation. "Never seen you around these parts before though."
Becky placed Wombat down on the floor. He ran into the darkness. She turned to her partner and said, "Several newbies have recently moved into the area. I thought maybe the little feller belonged to one of them, saw me feed the huskies, and came over to investigate the scene."
The following night, Wombat returned to Becky's home again, and the next, and the one after that. Five days passed. Each time, Becky fed him, and each trip Wombat licked her neck in appreciation.
Like Leah had done before her, Becky went door to door asking if anyone owned the little dog. She posted about him on every app she could think of. Becky even monitored lost pet sites. She discovered no notices of any kind that described her dinner guest.
Scheming a plan to crate Wombat, and have him scanned for a microchip that would lead her to his rightful owner, Becky came to terms he belonged to somebody. Maybe even a heart-broken child who missed him. Dogs of Wombat's nature weren't typically part of the wild in her hang-out.
Becky told her co-workers at the Artagonia factory where she made ski clothes, "The way this dog behaves it's obvious he's used to being snuggled and inside around people. Someone out there somewhere loved him."
It wasn't long until Becky's plan to capture Wombat came to fruition. She opened her door. Like usual, Wombat trotted inside. Becky placed a clean, dry towel, and a bowl of fresh food, inside a crate and waited.
*****
Nathan still cried at night for his missing companion. He vowed he would never forget Wombat. Nathan's desire for Christmas lost its appeal. He never gave up hope Santa, or someone close to him, would be able to intervene and bring Wombat home where he belonged.
Nathan told his father, "Whoever has Wombat just doesn't wanna put his picture online cause they wanna keep him."
Though he never showed his skepticism, Conner wasn't completely convinced Wombat was in somebody's home.
December 23rd arrived. The last day of school before Nathan would be out on Christmas break. Leah dropped him off at the Carnation Central Elementary School, and walked back into her residence. The telephone rang. Leah picked up the receiver.
A strange woman she did not know asked, "Do you still live in Maine?"
Hesitently, Leah responded, "No. Why?"
"My name is Becky Fulbright, and-a, I have your dog," Becky said.
Leah exclaimed, "What? Wombat's alive? Where?"
Becky provided Leah her address.
Leah entered the information into MapQuest. The answer shocked her. Hardly able to speak, Leah told Becky, "I'm headed out the door now. I'll be there in thirty minutes to get him!"
Leah drove straight to the location Becky gave her. In haste, she got out of her 4X4 and knocked on the door. Becky opened it. Leah saw Wombat in the crate in Becky's bedroom. Ecstatic, he barked a happy greeting. There would be no way for Wombat to run off.
A pleased Becky smiled. "Gotta be the best feeling in the world."
Hardly able to speak the words Leah said, "I can't thank you enough, Becky. You just made my young son's Christmas wish come true."
Back home, Leah kept Wombat in the garage with the door closed so he couldn't wander out. She tied a red Christmas bow to Wombat's new collar. An unsuspecting Nathan arrived home from school.
Leah told Nathan, "Your father and I have an early Christmas present for you."
Nathan's eyes widened as his mother opened the garage door. "Wombat!" He exclaimed.
Wombat leapt up into Nathan's outstretched arms.
When Conner arrived home from work that night, Leah assured her husband, "You should have seen them together. They were so excited to see each other. Nathan has not left Wombat alone since."
Conner replied, "I am so stricken with Becky's generosity. To take the time and effort to see if Wombat had been microchipped showed how much she cared. It would have been easy for Becky to not worry about where he belonged. Not many people'll do what she did. Becky is definitely one of a kind. Tell me she accepted our invitation for Christmas dinner."
Nathan hugged Wombat tighter than he ever did before. He looked up at his father. The glow on his face radiated when he said, "She gave me my Christmas miracle!"
There was no argument where Wombat slept that night. The lesson learned the harshest of ways, Wombat strictly remained within the confines of the now completely fenced yard.
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Gizmo, by Esther Parr, selected to complement my story.
So, thanks Esther Parr, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my story.
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and 2 member cents. So, thanks Esther Parr, for the use of your picture. It goes so nicely with my story.
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