The 12 Dogs of Christmas (10 page)

Why are they doing this?
Max thought.
Picking up my whole doghouse—and with me in it!
It was the big
man with the white beard, a very strong man, and the nice
lady, not at all a weak woman, who were doing it. “Mike,
don't forget the dog brushes,” the lady said to the boy as she
and the big man placed Max in his doghouse into the back
of the truck. “You can brush Max at the school.” That
made Max happy. He liked being brushed, and the boy did
it very well.

Finally all seventy-seven dogs were primped, Coach Cullimore was there with the school bus, and all the dogs were excitedly loaded onto the bus by the kids for the short trip to the school. Emma was just heading toward the bus when Dolores put her arms around her and turned her back toward the house. “She's riding with me,” she told Coach Cullimore. “We'll only be a minute. Come on, honey,” she said to Emma, leading her back in the house.

Dolores took her right into the salon, still in a bit of a mess from the day's activity, but that did not matter. It was Emma's turn. Dolores sat her in one of the chairs, turned her toward the mirror, snatched off Emma's cloth cap, and said, “I've been waiting for this.”

Emma laughed.
This
, she thought,
is going to be fun.

It was Christmas Eve, and the school assembly hall was packed with people. There were the mayor and the Town Council, parents and teachers, Mrs. Walsh, and two people not from town: an attractive woman and a man carrying a big camera. In one corner of the hall was a beautiful Christmas tree, and its multicolored glow gave the room a cheerful air. On the stage before the curtain stood a sign on an easel that read: THE TWELVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS—A TRIBUTE TO OUR TOWN.

Behind the curtain and backstage, the kids were hurriedly getting into costumes and hoping they remembered the newly written lyrics. The dogs were being led to their waiting places by kid stagehands in charge. And Coach and Mrs. Stevens were overseeing it all, hoping they could pull it off without a hitch.

They were running late, because Emma was not there yet. And they couldn't start without Emma.

Mayor Doyle, who did not really want to be there, stood up and announced, “Well, it seems that this tribute to our town has become a trial of our patience. I think we've done our civic duty. Merry Christmas, everyone.” And with that he began to leave, the Town Council getting up to do the same.

But the attractive lady from out of town called out to stop him. “Mayor Doyle?” At first he tried to ignore her, as he knew she was not a voter, but when she gave him her name, “I'm Lucy Stark with
LIKE
magazine,” he suddenly found her quite interesting.

“
LIKE
magazine! Very nice to meet you,” the mayor said as he enthusiastically pumped her hand. “Yes, we're doing a follow-up on the orphaned dogs story. Can we get a picture?”

“Of course,” the mayor said smiling as the photographer snapped a picture in a flash.

“Now, was it your idea, Mayor Doyle, to have the children celebrate your most unique community with a special tribute?”

“Well, uh, actually . . .”

“It's such a fabulous idea! Another picture?”

Flash!
went the photographer's bulb, bringing blinding brightness to the mayor's broad smile.

“We're going to use the follow-up as a cover story as well.”

“Yes, well, it was pretty much
my
idea,” the mayor fibbed.

Where was Emma? The kids were all costumed, the dogs were all in place, but where was Emma? Everyone backstage wondered and worried. Finally Emma entered through the back door, in a white Christmas dress, a candy cane vest, and large pink ribbons holding two smoothly flowing pigtails. No longer the tomboy, Emma was a beautiful young lady. Dolores came in behind her, beaming about her handiwork.

The full cast assembled, everyone made ready to start. Mrs. Stevens went into the hall to play the piano, Coach prepared himself to give all the cues, the stagehands took hold of the ropes that would open the curtains, and Emma made her way to the wings from where she would make her entrance.

On Coach's cue, Mrs. Stevens filled the room with the introduction to “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” Emma parted the curtains and walked out onto the stage. She was not nervous—she was determined.

“No one really knows for sure where the song ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas' came from. Some believe it is over four hundred years old. But our program tonight is not about the twelve
days
of Christmas.” Then Stephanie from the third grade came out with a small piece of cardboard that she affixed over the word
days
on the sign. On it was the word
dogs.

“It is about the gift of friendship,” Emma continued. “Friendship is what makes a town like ours so wonderful.” Her puppy then came out on stage, and Emma kneeled to hold and pet it. “But some of our best friends are not welcomed here. So we thought you should get to know our friends and see why we love them so much. And, well, maybe you will learn to love them as well.”

Emma went back behind the curtain, followed by the puppy. The music swelled, the curtains opened, and the audience was greeted by a beautiful, multilevel set depicting a fireplace that, oddly, had a doghouse on top of it. It was Max's doghouse, and inside was Max. Standing next to him was Miranda's six-year-old sister, Amanda (the sisters collectively known as the Andas). If Miranda was the smartest kid in school, certainly Amanda was the most adorable. On either side of the doghouse was a chorus of kids in white gowns with gold tinsel crowns. Large snowflakes hung from the rafters, and the audience sat with their mouths open in delight.

What am I doing here with all these kids?
Max thought.
What is happening?
Max looked out at all the people.
Is Mr. Whiteside out there?
he wondered.
I don't see him. Oh—they're singing.
“ON THE FIRST DAY OF
CHRISTMAS, MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME.” The little
girl started petting him. “Good boy, Max. Are you ever gonna
come out of the doghouse? A POODLE IN A DOGHOUSE!”

The audience laughed, and more than one of the women said, “Oh, how cute!” Then out of the fireplace emerged two large St. Bernards being led on leashes by boys. “ON THE SECOND DAY OF CHRISTMAS, MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME,” the chorus sang, “TWO ST. BERNARDS.” Then Amanda sang out, “AND A POODLE IN A DOGHOUSE!”

And so it went, through “THREE COCKER SPANIELS,” and “FOUR BASSETT HOUNDS,” and the drawn out, and beautifully sung, FIIIIVE GOLD-DEN RETRIEVERS,” all illustrated by bringing onto the stage the numerically correct amount of each breed, who were led to green and red steps, and each time punctuated by Amanda's solo of “AND A POODLE IN A DOGHOUSE!” Then up the aisle, among the audience, six fine Boxers were led to the stage while the chorus sang, “SIX BOXERS BOXING!”

The audience, except possibly for Mayor Doyle, was delighted and, unfortunately, unaware that tragedy loomed. For Dogcatcher Doyle was skulking backstage looking for mischief to make. He snuck a peek of the stage just as they were singing, “SEVEN HUSKIES HOWLING!” and almost became sick to his stomach over the sight of all those illegal dogs bringing joy to people. Something had to be done. He looked around and found waiting, unattended in one corner, some dogs tied up and some in cages, numbering twelve. They were not of any matched breed but were, indeed, the climax of the show, for they were to be the TWELVE MUTTS A-MARCHING. Norman did not know this, of course, but he knew they wouldn't be there if they weren't important. So he let them go. He untied the tied ones, and uncaged the caged ones, and shooed them out of the theater to the strains of “EIGHT SHEEPDOGS SNORING!” and his own cackling laugh.

On stage there were now NINE CHIHUAHUAS CHOMPING in the laps of nine gaily dressed kindergartners. Then the music changed to hints from the
Nutcracker
, and out of the fireplace came ten ballerinas, led by Miranda, followed by ten Dalmatians as the chorus sang, “TEN DALMATIANS DANCING.”

Emma watched offstage, thrilled that it was all going well, and that the audience was responding. Maybe many small changes were happening in many large hearts right now. But as eleven Chocolate Lab puppies were being brought on stage and the kids sang, “ELEVEN LABS A-LAUGHING,” in her ear came an urgent, “Emma, all the dogs for the twelfth day ran away!” At first Emma didn't believe the stagehand, but he insisted, so she went backstage to see for herself and found Norman standing there, a gleeful grin on his face and old Scratch in his arms.

“Oh, looking for the doggies?” Norman taunted just as Emma could hear, “ON THE TWELFTH DAY OF CHRISTMAS MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME—” And then the music stopped, and she could hear the buzz of the audience as nothing numbering twelve happened. “On the twelfth day of Christmas,” Norman sang, rather badly, “my true love gave to me—ab-so-lute-ly no doggies!”

In the assembly hall the audience was perplexed, Mrs. Walsh was consternated, and the mayor was delighted. Mrs. Stevens wondered what had happened, but figured that she had to continue, so she played the intro again, and the kids sang once more, “ON THE TWELFTH DAY . . .” But nothing more happened this time than did the last.

“What have you done with them?” Emma demanded.

Norman chuckled. “Well, I just let them out for a little walk.”

There was going to be no change in this heart, Emma knew, but something had to be done. Mrs. Stevens was playing the intro once again. Emma walked right up to Norman, who hugged old Scratch closer.
Changes do not happen with fists
, Emma reminded herself,
but maybe they can be helped along now and then by
a swift kick in the shin
. And so she gave Norman one, stunning him and causing him to loosen his grip on old Scratch, which she snatched away.

“ON THE TWELFTH DAY OF CHRISTMAS MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME . . . ,” the kids sang once again.

There was a moment of silence, a very short moment, but to Mrs. Stevens and Coach Cullimore, to Mrs. Walsh and Dolores, and especially to the kids, it seemed a very long moment indeed.

Then out of the fireplace, like the hero to the rescue she was, ran Emma with Scratch, which she held up high for all to see. “A CAT!” Emma shouted out.

“A CAT!” the kids repeated, surprised and delighted. Mrs. Stevens finished playing with a flourish and laughed in relief, as Coach came up to her and gave her a kiss. The twinkle-eyed photographer from
LIKE
magazine snapped for posterity the picture of Emma holding up old Scratch, and the audience broke into thunderous applause—led by none other than Mayor Nobel Doyle himself!

18
A Triple Reunion

The one person not applauding, of course, was Norman. He grabbed the ropes, closed the curtains, and ran to Emma to snatch old Scratch back. “Gimme my cat! Gimme
my
cat!” Unfortunately, this placed him right in the middle of many dogs, some of which had a very good memory of exactly who Norman was.

The audience was still on its feet, many were still applauding, and
all
were excitedly chatting about what a great show they had just seen, when they suddenly heard a great disturbance from behind the curtain. There was growling and barking and squealing (this from Norman), and the curtain was being kicked into a great agitation. Suddenly old Scratch came bounding out from behind the curtain and jumped into the arms of the sheriff for protection.

“What in the world?” more than one person asked. The answer came when Mike and Miranda opened the curtains to reveal Norman on the floor, desperately struggling under a pile of dogs, none of which were actually hurting him, some of which were just licking him—an act that Norman did not appreciate at all. Kids ran in and grabbed the dogs, taking them away, leaving Norman defeated on the floor. Next to him, obviously having fallen from his pocket during the struggle, and in plain sight to everyone—including the mayor—was a large wad of money.

The mayor was stunned. So it was true! His brother! A dogfight profiteer! Nobel Doyle marched onto the stage, took the wad of money, and shook it in Norman's face. “Dogfights, Norman?” Nobel said in utter disappointment. Then with anger he ripped from Norman's overalls the patch that read: DOGCATCHER OF DOVERVILLE leaving behind the old one which read: GARBAGE COLLECTOR. “And that cat goes back to sanitation with you!” With that, the mayor left the stage to rejoin the warmth of the cheering crowd.

Emma could not have been more pleased. Well, no, that is not true. Something could have pleased her even more. And in thinking about her father, she saw what she assumed was a momentary illusion, maybe a wish-induced mirage. But the image hung on, stayed there in the back of the hall, standing in the colors of the Christmas tree, clapping and smiling.
Oh my goodness!
Emma realized.
It's not an illusion;
it's not an illusion at all!
She ran off the stage, up the aisle, and into the arms of her father. They hugged; they hugged so tightly they both had to catch their breath when they broke.

“You came!” Emma said.

“Of course I came. You were wonderful.”

“But Aunt Dolores said, I mean, I thought—you really came.”

“Nothing's more important than a promise, Em.” Emma grabbed her father again and hugged him tightly. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, Emma.”

It was all a bit confusing for Max—the applauding, the
cheering, the dogs playing with that funny-looking human.
But wasn't it time to go? He could use a little rest. Actually
he would like to have joined the others. It looked like they
were having fun, but how could he have fun without Mr.
Whiteside?

“Max!” Why he could almost hear Mr. Whiteside calling
him. “Max!”