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One
Jason skidded to a halt in the living room, the small rug bunching up under his paws. He stared, delighted, at the corner of the living room that just an hour before had been occupied by a “NO CHEW, BAD DOG” rocking chair.
A tree! And not just any tree – a live one planted in a large pot, sap clotted on its trunk, the pine needles long and glistening with life. The odor of fresh dirt floated as a grace note to the pungent pine scent, a harmony of growing fertility. It was enough to make any Airedale Terrier just want to wallow.
Jason was two years old, shaggy with his winter coat, and beautifully marked. His ears were set perfectly on his face, bracketing bright, inquisitive eyes full of Airedale Fire. His body was sturdy and compact, well muscled, and he looked every inch of the hunter that he was. His face was exquisitely proportioned and boxy, although his beard remained a bit scraggly. (Privately, Jason blame that on inadequate grooming during his first two years of life, and was quite certain that it would soon fill out to rival Roo's snufflers.)
Although Jason was young, he was a young ‘dale of impeccable taste, and he was delighted to see that his influence was starting to rub off on his people. Why had it taken them so long to realize what was wrong with the large kennel they lived it?
It had been obvious to Jason from the first moment he walked into the house that there were too many dead things inside. Even worse, they were not even the good kind of dead things, rich with smells and tastes and scents just perfect for rolling in and on. No, these were ancient dead things, long past being attractive to an Airedale. (Well, except for chewing. With a little effort, almost anything was suitable for chewing.)
Why, just look at the place! The wood on the floor was old, covered with layers of layers of artificial shiny stuff, and quite slick. The large elevated dog beds that the people sat on, the items on the wall, the rugs, everything – all dead stuff.
It wasn’t that Jason didn’t like his people’s kennel. He had a keen appreciation for the advantages of central heating and a good roof. There was a lot to be said for the plethora of dog beds, too, although he viewed it as the worst sort of species discrimination that he was not allowed to get on some of the most comfortable elevated ones. Yes, Jason appreciated the comfort of his people’s kennel.
It was their decorating tastes he objected to. Wouldn’t the floor be a good deal more livable if it had a bit more dirt on it? Better traction, more interesting for rolling in, entirely versatile in terms of decorating with the occasional tasteful hole. Didn’t that just make more sense? Jason had been working hard to improve the condition of the floor, but the people were oblivious to his entire grand schema for redecorating. Not to mention ungrateful, frequently destroying hours of dirt feng shui with their dangerous and possibly hostile tools.
But apparently they were coming to their senses. Sure, it was just one live tree, but it was a good start. At least he wouldn't have to freeze his paws off anymore going outside anymore. Up until three weeks ago, he’d thought he’d be peeing the cold forever.
Through no fault of his own or his breeder, Jason had been a transient. His lineage was quite respectable, and his breeder had been a responsible one. Jason had been sold to an owner who had had Airedales all his life. Unfortunately, his person got sick shortly after he acquired Jason. The man's family descended to take care of him and Jason was banished to the backyard. Occasionally, someone remembered to take him in to let him visit his person.
For the most part, Jason became just one more task in the family’s evening routine. Most days, someone brought out a pail of water and a big bowl of cheap dry kibble. As much as he hated the rancid stuff they fed him, Jason soon learned to keep careful watch on it. Sometimes the squirrels tried to steal it. Other times, it had to last for several days when the people forgot he was around. Although he barked to remind them, they all thought that someone else had fed the dog and that Jason was simply being unpleasant. In short, nobody wanted Jason.
Finally, the time came when his owner went to live somewhere else. Someone came out in the backyard, put a leash on Jason, and took him to a strange kennel full of all different sorts of dogs. The other dogs were all barking and screaming and complaining and some of them were sick. As bad as the lonely backyard had been, the kennel was worse.
The kennel. Jason shuddered. If the house seemed lifeless to him, the kennel had been even worse.
Jason stayed in the kennel for ten days, watching the animals around him disappear one by one. Finally, a woman came to his kennel run, opened the door, and walked right in.
Jason liked her immediately. She reeked of healthy dogs and mud, and people smells didn’t get much better than that. Interesting dirt was crusted around the edges of her shoes, smeared where she’d tried to wipe it off, hiding in the tiny cracks in the leather and in the seams along the sole. Moreover, she seemed to have a good deal of common sense, since she hadn’t even looked at the other animals before coming straight to his cage.
The woman crouched down beside him and he breathed deeply, falling instantly in love with her scent. When her arms went around him, he thought he would swoon. Then she said, "It's OK, Jason. You're going home with me for while. And we'll find you a real home, a forever home, where you will be loved and adored and never go hungry again." He gave her a small lickie, of the type appropriate to those who’d just been introduced, to seal the deal.
At first, Jason was overwhelmed by all the new experiences. The car. The house, too, although he vaguely remembered living inside when he was a very small pup still completely black on his face.
And most of all, the rest of the pack. Aside from his time in the kennel, Jason had always been an only dog. Getting used to living with other dogs, especially other Airedales, was a challenge.
At first, Jason hadn’t understood the rules. Roo, the senior Airedale present, or SAP, quickly set him straight. The pack structure and procedures were whatever Roo said they were. (Within limits, of course. Even Roo wouldn’t dare violate the international protocols in place that governed the conduct of Airedales toward other species, breeds and humans. Some things simply were not done.)
Roo was a large male, almost one hundred pounds of solid muscle. At twelve, Roo was slowing down just a little but could still muster enough Airedale Fire sufficient to deal with a young upstart pup like Jason. Roo had been in charge of the Payne household since he himself had been Jason’s age, and he had no intention of giving up his position anytime in the next decade or so.
At first, Jason was simply too much in awe of Roo to question any of the older ‘dale’s policies. Roo had a large, full beard, a magnificent one capable of holding at least a quart of water. When Roo lifted his head from the water bowl, his snufflers would drip for hours. Roo could splatter walls twenty feet away, from floor to ceiling, with one shake of his massive head.
Jason could only stare opened-mouthed at such a feat. His own snufflers could barely create a decent splash on the floor, much less permanently stain walls.
In addition to Roo, there was Annie, a young girl about his own age. Annie was a petite Airedale, around forty-eight pounds. She was perfectly proportioned with a delicate and neatly pointed beard. Her eyes were dark and soulful, capable of Airedale Fire but more often than not simply adoring.
Annie was at the bottom of the pack pecking order and knew it. When Jason arrived, she’d at first hoped to elevate her position but had quickly sized him up and realized it was not to be. Within ten minutes of Jason’s arrival, she’d taught him the true joys of playing bitey face, sealing their friendship.
Finally, there was Verona. She was the matriarch of the pack, almost equal in standing to Roo. Gray grizzled her eyebrows and beard and she moved stiffly sometimes. Still, Jason had quickly learned that she was a canny squirrel stalker and one who didn’t mind sharing her secret techniques. Verona had the Fire still, burning bright, but she kept it carefully banked. It was only when she was completely caught up in a challenging squirrel chase that it truly shone through.
After two weeks in the Payne household, Jason was pretty sure he had a handle on the rules. Oh, sure, there were the daily changes occasioned by Roo’s mood, but those were easily dealt with. All in all, he was one quite happy young dale.
And now, things were looking even better. Jason advanced slowly on the tree, breathing deeply and pausing occasionally to admire the eddies of scent in the room. It was already invading the whole house, carrying life into every room. He particularly admired what its creator had done with the dirt, daring to mix humus and sand and clay in those particular proportions. Not something that Jason would have thought of himself, but it worked well with this particular tree.
“Not bad.” Roo paused at the threshold for a moment to admire the tree. “Better than the last one.”
“They’ve done this before?” Jason’s draw dropped.
Roo nodded. “Every year, when it gets this cold. Tree comes in, stays for a few weeks, then gets planted outside. Last one went out front, near the mailbox.”
“So that’s why it smells that way,” Jason said. “Makes sense now.”
“I could have told you if you’d asked.” Roo ambled over to the tree then stuck his face in between the branches, letting the needles tickle his face.
Oh, sure, like I’d ask. You know I wouldn’t dare yet, so you let me just think it was a new species. If there was one thing about Roo that irked Jason, it was the older ‘dale’s tendency to keep secrets.
“Anyway, enjoy it while it lasts,” Roo continued. “It won’t be here all that long after Christmas.”
“It’s CHRISTMAS already?” Jason asked. He could scarcely believe it! Jason himself had been a Christmas present, or so his first person had often told him. A present that Santa Claus had brought for the man when no one else had seen how much he needed an Airedale. Christmas was a very special time of the year.
Roo shot him a disgusted look and didn’t answer.
“Santa Claus is coming!” Jason said, wiggling so hard he could barely smell the tree anymore. “Santa Claus!”
Roo stared at him. “Don’t tell me you still believe that nonsense? A dog your age?”
“What nonsense?”
“About Santa Claus. There’s no such thing.”
“Maybe Santa Claus will bring me a --.” Jason stopped abruptly, Roo’s words finally sinking in. “What?”
“There’s no such thing as Santa Claus.”
“Oh, but there IS!” Jason said. “He brought me to my last person!”
Roo snorted. “No way. You were just a pup, from what I heard. Still all black, weren’t you? How would you know how you got from the breeder’s place to your last home?”
“Elves took care of me,” Jason said stubbornly.
“No, they didn’t.”
“They DID. My person told me so. All the time he told me that.”
“And you believe him? I bet he told you that you were in a forever home, too, didn’t he? And look how that turned out.”
Jason’s heart sunk. His person had said just that. And although Jason was quite certain his person had had nothing to do with sending him to the kennel, that didn’t change the fact that he’d been sent there, did it?
“So what would you ask Santa Claus for anyway?” Roo asked, his tone decidedly detached. But Jason wasn’t fooled. Roo would simply make fun of him, no matter what he said.
There was no way he was telling Roo what he really wanted. No way at all. Because at the top of Jason’s admittedly short list of things he’d really really like to have was a beard. A full, luxurious one like Roo’s, snufflers that could splatter walls and kitchen cabinets, ones that dripped and could dreadlock and fluff out or hang straight down, depending on how Jason felt.
“I don’t know,” Jason mumbled, embarrassed. If Roo ever figured out that Jason wanted snufflers like his, Jason would never live it down. Jason had to find some way to distract the older Airedale before things got too intense because Roo was relentless when he thought he was on to something. If Roo had ever bothered to apply that drive to squirrels, Verona would have had some serious competition.
Desperate, Jason padded over to the other side of the tree, letting its branches screen his face from Roo. “Hey, it’s only one tree, but we have to start somewhere.”
If Jason had one fault as a decorator – and it fact, it was his strength as well – it was his impulsivity. Roo, a fair hand with a scent palette himself, often said that Jason’s guiding principle in everything was, “Anything worth doing is worth OVERDOING.”
“Let’s just try this,” Jason murmured, now intent on his task. He dropped down and crawled under the tree, shivering as the long pine needles touched his scratch spot. It took him a few moments to slither under it, but eventually his snout was right up against its trunk. “Just a touch at first.”
Jason curled his paw over the edge of the pot. His nails and pads touched the special potting soil. It felt delightfully moist and cool – just perfect! The scent was the primary consideration, of course, but there was a good deal to be said for texture as well. “I’ll just scoop a bit out as a sampler.”
“No!” Roo had barely gotten the word out before Jason’s paw dug deep into the dirt. “Stop, you’ll --.”
Too late. The potted pine tree tottered, startling Jason. Jason jerked up and his head knocked against a large lower branch. The young Airedale, completely unaccustomed to trees that wiggled when touched, bolted out from under the tree, barely getting clear before the tree crashed over on its side.
“Now look what you’ve done!” Roo snapped. “Do you know how upset SHE will be?”
“Don’t be silly,” Jason answered, his voice full of Airedale Fire and the arrogance of a genius challenged by a lesser talent. “It was all clotting up, having all that dirt in one place. It wants spreading around a bit, you know. Like this.” He planted one paw in the spilled dirt and scratched delicately. “Yes, yes, work with me,” he murmured, concentrating on the undertones of scent that were revealed.
“Stop it!” Roo launched himself at the younger Airedale and grabbed him by the back of the neck. Jason froze. Roo tossed him away from the tree and onto his back, then planted large, sharp teeth around Jason’s throat. “No touching the Christmas tree. That’s a RULE.”
“Gack,” Jason said, all he could manage with Roo’s teeth pinning him down.
“You leave the tree alone and you get over this Santa Claus thing. Because there is no such animal as Santa Claus. There are trees in the house, extra treats and rawhides and more counter-surfing – but no Santa Claus! You got that?” Roo gave him a bit of a shake to hammer the point home.
“Gack,” Jason said again. He could feel his gums starting to turn blue.
Roo chose to take the noise as acquiescence and let him up. “Good. Then that’s settled.” He trotted off to the doggy door, stopping only before he went outside. “When I come back in, I want to see that thing turned back up like it was. You got it?”
“Yes, Roo,” Jason said, his voice scratchy. He watched the older dog leave before he turned his attention back to the tree.
The problem of righting the tree and locating the dust pan to sweep up the bit of dirt on the floor – Jason could have simply cried at the waste! – occupied his mind for more than a few moments. But eventually, when the tree was back in position and the floor disgustingly clean, Jason could no longer avoid the question that Roo had so cruelly raised.
No Santa Claus? Then where did I come from? Did my person lie to me? Is SHE lying to me when she says I’m going to a forever home? Maybe she’ll take me back to the kennel. Maybe you can’t believe anything your person ever tells you. Never, ever.
Impossible. While Jason had been unwanted for far too long, he still remembered his first days in his person’s house. The warm hugs, the scraps of food from the table, snuggling with his person on his person’s bed. That had all been real. That was the way life was supposed to be.
And there WAS a Santa Claus. There had to be.
At that moment, Jason knew that he had to find out for sure. He had to find Santa Claus and ask him why everything had gone so wrong. And maybe, just maybe, ask Santa Claus for one more thing.
Snufflers. Big, beautiful, bounteous snufflers.
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