The Ghost of Christmas Present

Carol gathered herself inside her old Ford Ranger. She pulled some fly-aways into place, tucked her scrub top into her bottoms, and wiped a tear from her eye. What was the trick for making your eyes less puffy? Tea bags? Her phone dinged and she made the mistake of checking it. Her background was her dog wearing a Santa hat and offering a slobbery tennis ball.

Wads of wrapping paper crinkled underfoot and the smell of gingerbread wafted in from the kitchen. Nothing but a decorative skirt lay underneath the tree now, and 15 year old Carol crossed her arms across her chest and sighed. Maybe next year.

“Wait,” her father said, “I think Santa left a present out in the garage.” Carol rolled her eyes. She was too old to believe in Santa, but she still scootched up to the edge of the couch and hovered over the edge in anticipation.

A puppy bounded up and bumped right into her, eyes entirely obstructed by, what was then, a huge Santa hat. He clambered up into her lap and licked her on the nose. She named him after her favorite character from Lord of the Rings: Samwise. Because, if there was one thing she knew, every adventurer needed a steady traveling companion.

Carol waited for laboratory door to swish open at the swipe of her badge. Underneath her picture and name, the badge announced her title, “Senior Director of Animal Care.” She tried not to think about that too hard and covered the badge with her cardigan.

The new receptionist waved, “Good morning Carol! Glad you made it in okay; can you believe this snow?”

Carol grumbled as she traipsed outside to shovel the snow before school. “Another three inches in the last four hours.” She turned the doorknob and a gust of winter wind pulled and slammed her garage door wide open.

Samwise seized his opportunity and dashed outside, rolling around and around, and making doggie snow-angels. Carol laughed and Samwise careened over and knocked her into a snow drift, licking her face so that her glasses fogged up and her scarf stuck to her face. As she scraped the snow off to one side of the driveway or the other, she periodically stopped to toss Samwise a snowball to catch. Despite the wicked wind and the biting drudgery of her least favorite morning chore, Carol felt warm.

Carol slumped down at her desk to check her email. They had named her Employee of the Month and thanked her for being such an asset to the company. A sizeable salary increase and a choice parking spot awaited.

An assistant peeked his head in, “We’re ready for you doctor.”

Her professionally matted degree hung in an ornate gold frame over her desk.

The clock on the microwave flashed 3:02 am. A few lonely crusts lingered inside an opened pizza box and a fresh pot of coffee dripped in the kitchen. She had only made her way through the first third of her flash cards. Carol considered ripping all of her textbooks up into confetti and tossing all of it out the window. One last test to become a veterinarian and she felt certain she would botch the whole thing.

Samwise wandered out of the bedroom, climbed up onto the couch, and flopped across her lap. He nuzzled his nose underneath her hand, and promptly fell asleep, snoring loudly and drooling everywhere. Carol scratched the top of his head. “You know, I’m doing all of this for you.”

“Next!” Carol called out.

The operating room door whooshed open and an assistant spread an anesthetized beagle out on the table. Carol made her opening incision, placed the pacemaker, and sutured him back up. Her colleagues would monitor the dog for a few months, maybe a year, before he would ultimately be euthanized. Then, Carol would open him up once more, for necropsy.

“Next!” the receptionist called. Carol checked-in Samwise and settled in to wait. There was a time when Samwise would have insisted on sharing her uncomfortable chair, but he collapsed at her feet. Carol had taken Samwise to eight specialists in three different states, but had received zero answers. No one could agree on the cause of Samwise’s episodes.

Carol checked her bank account app and hung her head. Rent was due and she had already maxed out four credit cards on these visits. A notification flashed across her screen: a job opportunity at an animal testing facility. She swore she would not even consider it, until she saw the starting salary.

Carol wandered back towards her office, but stopped in front of the canine ward. Dogs barked and paced and screamed and threw themselves against their cages. These dogs were bred specifically for testing, and none of them would know anything different than the inside of this laboratory. This was not the first time Carol had been tempted to race down the runway and fling every cage wide open.

Instead, as usual, Carol found her way to her office and laid her head down on her desk. There, at least, it was quiet.

It was too quiet when Carol came home from work yesterday evening. She rushed from room to room. “Samwise! Here boy!” She hoped that he was just sound asleep in her closet.

Instead, she found his body underneath the Christmas tree, stiff and soaked in urine. She sobbed all night long, gripping his cold soft fur in her hands and pulling Samwise into her lap.



Everyone had left for the day. Carol hurried down the hallway towards the canine ward, oblivious to the deafening howls. She threw open one cage door after another and shepherded twelve beagles out to her truck. For the very first time their little noses sniffed at the open air.

Carol sped off into the night with all of the dogs in tow. She remembered the Samwise from her stories saying, “There’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it’s worth fighting for.” She adjusted Samwise’s tennis ball on her dashboard and knew this was true. Adventure awaited.