He burst through the back door, leapt across porch and took the steps in a single bound.  His feet betrayed him as he hit the fresh snow, sliding onto his back but he was up and running in an instant.  Behind him he heard the crash of the door as the dog barrelled through it after him.  As he reached the corner of the house he risked a glance behind him.  The dog was scrabbling to its feet, having suffered the same mishap on landing.

He sprinted down the alley beside the house.  No gate!  What sort of house had no gate between the front and back?  He bent forward and redoubled his efforts.  Into the front garden.  The street lights reflected off the fresh snow making everything bright as day.  He leapt an abandoned tricycle as the dog barked behind him.  The gate!  Thank Christmas it was only a low one.  No time to open and shut it.  He grabbed the gate post as he reached it and vaulted the gate, landing on the footpath and sliding up against the car parked by the curb.  Safe!

He took a deep breath and started to jog down the road.  That had been close.  Dogs!  He hated them.  Why would people leave a dog in –

He spun at the hollow thump of something hitting the car. The dog scrambled to its feet.  It had jumped the gate.  It had jumped the gate! 

He turned again and sprinted down the road, followed by a bark as the dog resumed its chase.

“Papa one!  Papa one!” he screamed.  “Dog!  Big dog!  Retrieval now.  Heading south on Ash.”

“This is Papa one.  Roger.”

“Now!” he screamed.  He could here its feet crunching in the snow.  Would its claws give it an edge in the snow?  Would claws caked in snow numb the pain as it rent his flesh from his bones?

He grabbed a lamppost and spun off down the road to his left.  The dog wouldn’t be able to corner efficiently, not on this surface.

“Papa one.  East on… I don’t know.  East on something.  Help!”

He glanced over his shoulder.  For a moment the dog looked like a cartoon villain, its legs running but his body stationary.  Then the claws found a grip and it accelerated towards him.  But behind it a light in the sky gave him hope.

“This is Papa one.  We have visual.”

The dog was closing.  It almost had him!  Without slowing he ran onto the bonnet of a car, onto its roof and leapt.  His flailing arm hit a rail and he grabbed onto the landing strut, hands gripping the metal so hard he feared he might crush it.

Hands reached down and hauled him into the sleigh.

“Dog!” he panted.  “Big dog.”

Papa one laughed, a sound as deep as a father’s love and as old as man.

“That's Spike,” said Papa one.  “He’s lively, isn’t he.”

“Lively?  Lively?  He nearly killed me.  Why do we have to leave dogs presents as well?”

The old man looked down and smiled through his beard.

“Well, he is a good boy.  On Prancer!”  And he urged the reindeer on with a flick of the reins.