[Short Story] – The Christmas Visitor

I wrote this story for my Christmas cards, but I couldn’t get it to fit into the envelope. It’s just as well; people probably wouldn’t have been happy with me for this little tale, which seems sad on the surface, but which is really about the deepest kind of Christmas charity one can offer.

The Christmas Visitor

by Sean J. Jordan
December, 2007

It had been raining in spurts of ice and snow when the visitor first arrived on the back deck, shivering and panting heavily.

He was a large dog, probably meant to weigh around sixty pounds, but so skinny and unhealthy-looking that Joe had no doubt the creature was severely underweight. It was his eight-year-old daughter, Audrey, who’d found the dog lying underneath the toy picnic table, shaking and whimpering as the cold winds blew around the house. She’d come inside and asked her mother Evey for a hot dog, offering no explanation why, and taken it out and fed it to him without any thought of her own safety. It never occurred to her that the dog might be sick, or mean, or that it might be so hungry that it would gnaw on her hand as soon as the food she was offering. That was just how Audrey was; always thinking of others, but rarely considering the consequences. And while Joe secretly hoped she would never outgrow her outlook, he feared the world would teach her a lesson about its drawbacks long before she was able to understand them on her own.

But this dog was friendly, and even tried to follow Audrey into the house as she went inside to get him some warm water, his big black tail wagging feverishly as he followed her. That was when Evey first saw the creature, and tried to shoo him away by snapping her dishtowel at him, mostly out of fear and surprise. And that was when Audrey screamed and ran towards the dog, hoping to protect him, but instead scaring him away from the door and out into the yard.

“Close the door, Audrey,” Evey shouted. “I don’t want him in here!”

“Mom!” Audrey protested, and chased back outside after the dog. Evey stood at the back door, watching the dog disappear into the woods behind their house, and then called Audrey back inside. Joe walked into the kitchen, wondering what all the commotion was about.

“He was just hungry!” Audrey said.

“I know,” Evey replied. “And I’m sorry. I just saw this big, black dog trying to follow you inside, and I got worried.”

Audrey watched out the window. “We should leave some food out for him,” she said. “Maybe he’ll come back.”

Joe stepped next to her, surveying the backyard as he cleared his throat. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” he said. “He might not be a nice dog.”

“He’s nice,” insisted Audrey. “He didn’t even growl.”

“He probably has a home to go back to,” added Evey. “I’ll bet he just got loose.”

Audrey shook her head. “He didn’t have a collar on,” she said. “He looked sick.”

“That’s just one more reason we should leave him alone,” said Joe. “He’s an animal, sweetie. He can look after himself.”

“But it’s almost Christmas!” Audrey cried. “What if he’s sick, and he has to spend it out in the rain? Isn’t that what those people did to baby Jesus?”

Joe and Evey exchanged a glance. They had been working through the Christmas story with Audrey, and the night before, they had talked about why Jesus had to be born in a manger instead of a hospital. Most children enjoyed the idea of baby Jesus being born amongst the animals, with shepherds and wise men standing by. But not Audrey; she’d been there when Evey had given birth to her little brother Franklin in the car, two years ago, and she’d seen that childbearing was a difficult and messy affair. The story of Mary being forced to give birth in a stable had made Audrey cry, because she understood what a cruel and difficult thing it was.

And so Joe helped Audrey find a plastic bowl and mash up a hot dog, and they filled another bowl with some hot water in case the dog needed to warm himself up. They set both bowls out under Audrey’s toy picnic table, where the dog could find some shelter from the sleeting sky, and Audrey sat by the back door, gazing out the storm door and waiting patiently for the dog to return. After about an hour, Joe saw her lying there, dozing underneath a sleeping bag with her head propped up on some pillows Evey had brought out, oblivious to the large black dog sitting underneath the picnic table, lapping up the water next to the now-empty food bowl.

Joe grabbed his coat and another hot dog from the fridge and walked out into his garage, taking the back door out to the deck. The dog saw him, and tensed up underneath the table, but Joe approached him slowly, holding the hot dog out and calling for him to come. It took the dog a moment to size up the situation, but he eventually decided that Joe meant no harm, and trotted forward, tail wagging slightly.

Joe coaxed the dog into the garage, and closed the door. The dog immediately shook itself, throwing water and ice all over the place, and then walked up to him and sat on the floor mat in front of the door to the house, waiting for a treat. His tail whisked back and forth on the garage floor, leaving a streak of water in its wake.

“Here you go, boy,” Joe said, and fed him the hot dog, glad to see the dog taking the meat from him gently instead of snatching it from his hand. Joe flipped on a light, grabbed a towel, and started petting the dog and talking to him gently as he attempted to dry the poor creature off. The dog looked tired. His ribs were showing, and his coat was matted with ice and dried blood in places, as if he’d been wounded in a recent fight just before the ice storm had hit. He smelled terrible, and one of his eyes was puffed up and swollen. Between coughs and sneezes, he nuzzled and licked Joe with affectionate gratitude as he warmed up there in the garage.

Joe looked up after a moment and noticed Evey and Audrey standing there, in the doorway to the house, watching him.

“Is he a nice dog, daddy?” Audrey asked.

“I think so,” Joe said. “No tags, though.”

“What should we do?” asked Evey.

Joe sighed. “There’s no way I’m letting him out in the cold again,” he said. “I guess he can stay in the garage while we call Animal Control and see what we should do.”

Audrey was excited by this. “Yay!” she cried, jumping a bit on the balls of her feet. “Can we give him a name?”

Joe looked up at Evey. She shrugged. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt,” Joe said. “But you need to understand that he probably already has a name, and a family, somewhere else, all right?”

Audrey nodded. “Let’s call him…” she said, and hesitated. She grabbed her mom’s leg and looked up shyly. “Coal,” she whispered.

Joe laughed. “Because he’s black?” he said. “Or because you’re going to be getting a lot of that in your stocking when Santa comes?”

Audrey’s face reddened, and she shouted, “I’m not getting any coal, daddy!” in that defensive way of hers.

“Of course you’re not,” said Evey. “But I think it’s a lovely name for a dog.

“Coal it is,” said Joe. And he invited Audrey down to pet the dog as he sent Evey inside for a bucket and some soap so they could clean Coal up.

************************************************************

Audrey had always wanted a dog, but Evey had never wanted one in the house. So she was thrilled to have a dog in the garage to play with that afternoon while Joe and Evey talked about what they should do. Coal was friendly enough, but he was clearly sick; it was hard to tell if he was simply weak from malnutrition or if he had caught something worse out in the elements. Joe made a call to Animal Control and explained the situation, and they promised they would send someone out as soon as the road conditions improved. “From what you’re describing, he’s probably fine,” said the dispatcher. “Probably just someone’s dog who got loose, like you said. Even so, I’d suggest you just leave him in there until we can send someone out. You don’t know what sort of tendencies he has.”

Joe kept that last part from Evey, because he didn’t want her deciding that it was too dangerous for Audrey to enjoy playing with Coal in the garage. So he sat out there watching, enjoying the sound of his daughter’s screams and giggles as Coal chased her around and played fetch with a tennis ball. And though the dog was clearly worn out, he loved the attention he was receiving from Audrey. Joe was worried he would have to pry the two apart at bedtime.

Audrey insisted on eating her dinner out in the garage, and offered one of her chicken nuggets to Coal. The big black dog wolfed it down, and licked her on the face affectionately in a bid for more. Joe mashed up the rest of the hot dogs in a bowl, and made sure the dog had plenty to eat. Once they were finished, Joe tied a loose rope around Coal’s neck and they took him out for a quick walk so he could relieve himself for the night. Audrey wanted to keep playing once they returned to the garage, but the dog was too tired — he walked over to a pile of old blankets Evey had set out and laid down. Audrey sat next to Coal, hugged him, and sang him a little song. It was cute, and Joe found himself wishing he knew where his camera was so he could take a picture.

“Audrey,” Evey called softly, “it’s Christmas Eve and it’s time for bed. You know what that means.”

Audrey did, and she rushed inside to change into her pajamas and brush her teeth. Evey started inside as Joe rummaged around for the presents he’d hidden under a pile of junk.

“What do we do about the dog?” Evey asked.

“He’ll be fine,” Joe said. “He’s better off in here than out there.”

Evey sighed. “She’s already attached, Joe. What are we going to do when Animal Control gets here?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “We’ll figure it out.”

Evey started inside, and then stopped. “I don’t want a dog,” she said, and went inside.

Joe leaned down to pet Coal. The dog opened its eyes and looked up at him, eyes bloodshot, but deep, and soulful. “Sleep well, buddy,” he whispered. The dog licked his hand, and Joe rose to go inside, hoisting the bag of wrapped presents up on his shoulder.

************************************************************

Audrey was up long before it was light outside, and she’d managed to wake up her brother in her excitement. As Evey went to fetch Franklin, Joe put on his bathrobe and walked out to the living room, where Audrey was sitting excitedly next to the Christmas tree, eating a piece of chocolate she’d dug out of her stocking.

“Presents! I’ve got presents!” she cried.

“I noticed,” said Joe. “Wait for your mother.”

Audrey sorted through her stocking again. “Daddy, can I give some chocolate to Coal?” she asked.

It took Joe a moment to remember that the dog was still in the garage. “Dogs can’t eat chocolate,” he said. “But I think it’s OK to give him an animal cookie.”

“OK!” she shouted, and she ran to the kitchen to grab the box. Joe walked towards the door to the garage, yawning. Audrey met him there, and they stepped out into the garage. The dog was lying there quietly, and didn’t even seem to stir as they approached.

“Wake up, Coal, wake up!” Audrey shouted. The dog didn’t move, so Audrey sat down next to him and started petting him. “Wake up!”

Joe was beginning to realize that something was very wrong as Audrey said, “Daddy, he feels cold.” And just as she said it, the realization of what had happened set in. He had no idea what to say, so he simply walked to up towards Audrey, placed his hand on Coal’s back, feeling the chill where there had once been warmth, and said, quietly, “Yes. Yes he does.”

Evey was at the door, holding Franklin, and she caught Joe’s worried expression. “Audrey, let Coal sleep,” she said. “You need to come open your presents now.”

That was enough to pry Audrey from the dog, and she jumped up excitedly and ran into the house. Joe picked up the box of animal crackers she’d left behind.

“He’s, um… he’s gone, Evey,” Joe said softly.

Evey’s eyes widened. “What do we do?” she whispered back.

Joe rose. “I’ll figure something out,” he said. “Let’s not spoil the morning.

Evey sighed. “We never should have let this dog in,” she said. “I knew something bad was going to come out of this.”

Joe nodded and said nothing, but as he followed his wife inside, he realized that he could not have disagreed with her more.

************************************************************

They put Coal out of their minds for a few hours and spent some time opening presents and making breakfast. They laughed as Franklin played in the wrapping paper and the boxes and ignored his toys, and they ooed and ahed as Audrey showed off her gifts proudly. Audrey occasionally would ask if she could go out to see the dog, but Joe would simply say, “Let’s let him sleep, sweetie,” and she would let it go.

Eventually, they sat down at the table as Evey made some pancakes, eggs, and bacon, and Joe sat next to Audrey.

“Did you like what you got for Christmas?’ he asked.

“Yes,” said Audrey.

“That’s good,” he said, and took a deep breath. This was going to be hard.

“Do you know why we give presents to each other on Christmas?” he asked her.

“Um…” she said, scrunching up her face as she thought about it. “Because we like to get stuff?”

“Yes,” said Joe, “but even more than that, it’s because we like to give stuff, because when we give, it tells other people that we love them.”

“Oh,” said Audrey.

“Did you give anything to anyone this year?” Joe asked.

“No,” said Audrey. She hadn’t; Evey had never had time to take her shopping.

“I think you did,” said Joe.

“To who?” she asked.

“To Coal,” Joe said. “You saw that he was hungry, and cold, and wet, and alone, and you gave him food, and a place to stay, and a family, and a friend. You gave him the best present that anyone could ever ask for.”

“Oh,” said Audrey. She smiled. “That’s neat.”

Joe took his daughter’s hand. “Coal gave us something too,” he said. “Coal gave us the chance to know him for who he really was. When we met him, we didn’t know if he was a mean dog or a nice dog. But now we know, don’t we?”

“He is a nice dog,” Audrey agreed.

Joe cleared his throat. “What I’m saying is…” he was aware that Evey had turned her back now, and was crying. “Sweetie, Coal knew something yesterday that the rest of us didn’t. He knew that it was the last day of his life, and he thought he was going to have to spend it out in the cold, in the rain, by himself. But then you saw him, and you let him into your heart, and you gave him a home.”

Audrey’s eyes were wide now. “What do you mean, daddy?” she asked.

“Do you remember how Coal was cold, and still when we went to see him this morning?” Joe asked. “That’s because he died, honey.”

Audrey’s eyes were full with tears now. “But it’s Christmas,” she whispered.

“I know,” said Joe. “But he was very sick, and he was going to die anyway. And that means you gave him a very special present, because he could have died out in the cold, by himself. But instead, he died here, in his sleep in a warm place, with people who loved him.”

Evey had turned back around now, tears streaking down her face. She clearly needed to hear this too.

“Coal was a wonderful dog,” Joe said. “I wish we could have known him longer. But I’m glad that while we did know him, he was happy. We gave him the best thing anyone could give him on his last day.”

Audrey leaned over and buried her head in her father’s chest. “But I’ll miss him,” she sobbed.

“I will too,” said Joe. Evey walked over and placed her arms around them both, and for a few moments, no one said anything. Just being there was enough.

************************************************************

“It was probably heartworms,” said the Animal Control officer as they knelt over the dog’s lifeless form in Joe’s garage the next morning. “Happens a lot around here with the strays. There’s nothing you could have done.”

Audrey shook her head. Evey hadn’t wanted her there, but she’d insisted on seeing Coal one more time. “That’s not what my daddy says,” she said.

“Oh?” said the Animal Control officer, smiling and looking over at her. “What did he tell you?”

“He says we did everything we could have,” Audrey said. “That’s different.”

The Animal Control officer smiled. “I suppose it is, Miss,” he said, and patted Audrey on the shoulder as he rose. “I suppose it is.”

************************************************************

Copyright Sean J. Jordan, 2007. All Rights Reserved.
The author grants permission for this story to be distributed freely for non-commercial use.
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Writing Scraps

by Sean J. Jordan