Dec. 10, 2010
FURRY FRIENDLY ‘CHICKEN’ SOUP: “Bones for Christmas”
By Lisa Morris-Abrams
Special to Huntingtonnews.net
Huntington, WV (HNN) - For many of us, Christmas is about families, gift giving, and celebrations. My Christmas of 2002 was about saving Bones.
"I'm telling you this dog must go! I don't care if it's Christmas Eve -- can you just come and get him?"
The man on the phone was irate. I slowly counted down to ten before even attempting a response. 10, 9, 8, 7 –
"Hello? Are you there? Are you listening to me?"
6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1-
"Sir," I answered, "I understand that this stray dog has happened upon you at an inconvenient time, but, I'm due to fly to St. Louis tomorrow morning. Is there any way I could come look at him, say, Friday? That's only four days away."
"No. I'm taking him to the pound, which is what I should have done in the first place -- skinny mutt."
At that point my rescuers instincts kicked in. His intentions weren't a visit to the pound. They wouldn't be open Christmas Eve. I had no choice. I was the founder of a Labrador retriever rescue. I had given my word that if God would help me get this venture off the ground, I'd make every attempt I could to save these animals.
That was two years and almost nine hundred Labs ago, and I didn't plan on breaking my promise that Christmas Eve.
"Ok," I said, "I'll come and get him. Please give me detailed directions because it will be close to dark when I arrive, and I don't see well at night."
The man gave me the directions. I placed a call to my family and I loaded up what basic necessities I figured I would need. I added a few extra Milk-Bones to the pile -- it sounded like this would be a welcomed treat.
We've all heard the saying "it's best to make lemonade out of lemons," and that is what I intended to do. The trip to Cartersville was going to take me close to three hours. I had a lot of lemonade to make.
When I arrived at the disheveled farm house, I was one hundred percent certain of my decision. No Christmas lights or decorations welcomed me and gloominess seemed to settle on the pace like a thick fog. I had come alone for this rescue, and I admit that at that particular moment, I was questioning my sanity.
The doorbell light was on its last leg but I proceeded to press it anyway. No answer. I decided I may have better luck knocking on the door. As I opened the storm door to get a good pounding in, I noticed a small note tucked between the crevice of the door and the frame. It simply said, "He's around back."
"Great," I mumbled to myself, "What a way to spend Christmas Eve.
It's freezing, I'm all alone and goodness knows what I am about to find at the back of this house -- but here goes." Talking to myself like that, out loud, had a soothing effect and made me feel not so alone.
I carefully crept my way through the darkness, calling out to a nameless Lab who was hungry, scared, and cold. As I started to call out the second time, I heard a rustling in the undergrowth, coming straight toward me. Then came a loud and deep-throated bark and I just knew I was a goner.
Out of nowhere he appeared. A beautiful black Lab who should have weighed at least ninety pounds, but appeared to weigh closer to sixty. Poor guy. But talk about friendly! There wasn't an ounce of shyness in his bones. It was as if we were long lost friends reuniting for the Holidays.
"My goodness, you are nothing but skin and bones!" I cried as I gave his ears a good scratching. "Bones -- that's it -- that's your name!"
He must have liked it because he began to waggle like only a Lab can do. The front part of his body was twisting in one direction while the other end was completely moving in the opposite direction. The whole time his tail was wagging and his body was wiggling.
The trip back home was quite enjoyable. I learned a good bit about Bones (he liked to smack his jaws together making a funny sound) and he about me. If you've ever owned a Lab, you know they are better than any therapist you could pay for.
Finally we were home. Bones began to get very excited and that smacking sound got a little louder and louder. He knew he was in a safe place and that I was going to take good care of him. We were both pooped. I wasn't sure where he was going to sleep, but he knew. As soon as we headed inside, he jumped on the couch, did a couple of 360s and settled in like he owned the place. This was turning out to be a pretty good Christmas Eve after all.
The next morning -- Christmas -- I rushed downstairs to visit my new bundle of love. I looked on the couch but he wasn't there. I rushed into the kitchen but no luck there either. There was only one room left -- my office.
As I rounded the corner I wasn't sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. Bones was all curled up in a ball as snug as could be underneath my Christmas tree, one single Milk-Bone resting by his head.
What a precious gift was before me. We all know that Christmas is about giving and not receiving, but that Christmas, I think Bones and I were even.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: “I’ve been an educator for the past 21 years and a writer for a life time. I currently have two stories being published in Chicken Soup for the Soul books, several articles in Just Labs magazine, and a professional teaching book due out in the spring. I love my life, my family, and my Labs." lovealab@aol.com Reprinted by permission.
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FURRY FRIENDLY ‘CHICKEN’ SOUP: “Bones for Christmas”
By Lisa Morris-Abrams
Special to Huntingtonnews.net
Huntington, WV (HNN) - For many of us, Christmas is about families, gift giving, and celebrations. My Christmas of 2002 was about saving Bones.
"I'm telling you this dog must go! I don't care if it's Christmas Eve -- can you just come and get him?"
The man on the phone was irate. I slowly counted down to ten before even attempting a response. 10, 9, 8, 7 –
"Hello? Are you there? Are you listening to me?"
6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1-
"Sir," I answered, "I understand that this stray dog has happened upon you at an inconvenient time, but, I'm due to fly to St. Louis tomorrow morning. Is there any way I could come look at him, say, Friday? That's only four days away."
"No. I'm taking him to the pound, which is what I should have done in the first place -- skinny mutt."
At that point my rescuers instincts kicked in. His intentions weren't a visit to the pound. They wouldn't be open Christmas Eve. I had no choice. I was the founder of a Labrador retriever rescue. I had given my word that if God would help me get this venture off the ground, I'd make every attempt I could to save these animals.
That was two years and almost nine hundred Labs ago, and I didn't plan on breaking my promise that Christmas Eve.
"Ok," I said, "I'll come and get him. Please give me detailed directions because it will be close to dark when I arrive, and I don't see well at night."
The man gave me the directions. I placed a call to my family and I loaded up what basic necessities I figured I would need. I added a few extra Milk-Bones to the pile -- it sounded like this would be a welcomed treat.
We've all heard the saying "it's best to make lemonade out of lemons," and that is what I intended to do. The trip to Cartersville was going to take me close to three hours. I had a lot of lemonade to make.
When I arrived at the disheveled farm house, I was one hundred percent certain of my decision. No Christmas lights or decorations welcomed me and gloominess seemed to settle on the pace like a thick fog. I had come alone for this rescue, and I admit that at that particular moment, I was questioning my sanity.
The doorbell light was on its last leg but I proceeded to press it anyway. No answer. I decided I may have better luck knocking on the door. As I opened the storm door to get a good pounding in, I noticed a small note tucked between the crevice of the door and the frame. It simply said, "He's around back."
"Great," I mumbled to myself, "What a way to spend Christmas Eve.
It's freezing, I'm all alone and goodness knows what I am about to find at the back of this house -- but here goes." Talking to myself like that, out loud, had a soothing effect and made me feel not so alone.
I carefully crept my way through the darkness, calling out to a nameless Lab who was hungry, scared, and cold. As I started to call out the second time, I heard a rustling in the undergrowth, coming straight toward me. Then came a loud and deep-throated bark and I just knew I was a goner.
Out of nowhere he appeared. A beautiful black Lab who should have weighed at least ninety pounds, but appeared to weigh closer to sixty. Poor guy. But talk about friendly! There wasn't an ounce of shyness in his bones. It was as if we were long lost friends reuniting for the Holidays.
"My goodness, you are nothing but skin and bones!" I cried as I gave his ears a good scratching. "Bones -- that's it -- that's your name!"
He must have liked it because he began to waggle like only a Lab can do. The front part of his body was twisting in one direction while the other end was completely moving in the opposite direction. The whole time his tail was wagging and his body was wiggling.
The trip back home was quite enjoyable. I learned a good bit about Bones (he liked to smack his jaws together making a funny sound) and he about me. If you've ever owned a Lab, you know they are better than any therapist you could pay for.
Finally we were home. Bones began to get very excited and that smacking sound got a little louder and louder. He knew he was in a safe place and that I was going to take good care of him. We were both pooped. I wasn't sure where he was going to sleep, but he knew. As soon as we headed inside, he jumped on the couch, did a couple of 360s and settled in like he owned the place. This was turning out to be a pretty good Christmas Eve after all.
The next morning -- Christmas -- I rushed downstairs to visit my new bundle of love. I looked on the couch but he wasn't there. I rushed into the kitchen but no luck there either. There was only one room left -- my office.
As I rounded the corner I wasn't sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. Bones was all curled up in a ball as snug as could be underneath my Christmas tree, one single Milk-Bone resting by his head.
What a precious gift was before me. We all know that Christmas is about giving and not receiving, but that Christmas, I think Bones and I were even.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR: “I’ve been an educator for the past 21 years and a writer for a life time. I currently have two stories being published in Chicken Soup for the Soul books, several articles in Just Labs magazine, and a professional teaching book due out in the spring. I love my life, my family, and my Labs." lovealab@aol.com Reprinted by permission.
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