Henry

Henry slept curled up next to the fireplace. A grumble emitted from his gut, followed by a quiet but distinct,

Poof!

“Ah! He farted again. You gotta quit feeding him scraps, Wes,” Mr. Smith said waving a hand in front of his face.

Mrs. Smith looked up from her book, pinching her nose. “Ehhh, it smells so bad.”

“Leave ‘em alone, guys. He deserves a piece of pizza every once in a while. These are his golden years.”

“He smells like he crapped himself!” Sam eagerly chimed in from her spot on the carpet.

“Samantha Smith, do not say that word again or you’ll be in big trouble,” Mrs. Smith scolded.

Crestfallen, Sam turned back to her dolls.

Wes put down his game controller and walked over to Henry. Kneeling down beside him, he stroked his wirey grey hair gently. Henry opened his bulbous eyes slightly and peered at Wes before rolling lazily on his side to allow Wes to rub his belly.

“Who’s a good boy? Are you a good boy, Henry? Yes, you are.”

Poof!

“Ah! You’re stirring them up, Wes! Quit!” Sam squealed.

“You can’t help it, can you, boy? It’s okay. You fart if you need to.”

Henry’s tongue flopped out of the side of his mouth as he stared up at Wes.

“Maybe Santa will bring me a puppy like he brought Wes one when he was little?” Sam commented nonchalantly, peeking at her parents from the side of her eye.

 Mr. Smith laughed. “Not likely, sweetie.”

“It’s possible though, right?”

“No, honey. Not possible. We explicitly told Santa no more puppies…not for a while anyway.”

Sam huffed. “It’s not fair.”

“You still have Henry, dear. He’s a good dog that deserves your love,” Mrs. Smith reasoned.

“He’s not my dog. He’s Wes’s dog. Plus, he stinks. And he’s probably gonna kick the bucket soon.”

“Hey! Don’t talk like that in front of him!” Wes quickly covered Henry’s ears.

“Oh, don’t be stupid. He can’t understand me.”

“He can too, and you better quit being a little snot or Santa’s gonna bring you coal instead of presents.”

“Mom! That’s not true, is it?”

“Wes, don’t call your sister a snot. If you two can’t get along then you’re both going to get coal instead of presents.”

“I’ve been good this year!” Sam protested. “Santa won’t give me coal, he just won’t!”

“Oh, you’ve been good?” Wes asked, raising a brow. “How about when you cut the hair off of your friend’s doll and made her cry?”

“I said sorry!”

“And how about when you got mad at me and threw the remote at my head?”

“I’m sorry for that too.”

“You’re getting so much coal.”

“I am not!”

Mr. Smith muted the television and lowered the footrest of his lazy chair. The children quieted, knowing this meant business. “I’m personally going to request for Santa to bring you both nothing but coal, if you don’t stop arguing. Now, cool it.”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry, Daddy.”

He unmuted the television, resuming his third viewing of The Christmas Story this month. Mrs. Smith continued with her book, Sam, went on playing with her dolls, and Wes went into the kitchen to grab some dog biscuits.

“Shake,” Wes commanded.

Henry happily extended his paw.

“Good boy!”

Henry eagerly received the biscuit and chewed it contently by the fire as Wes scratched his back.

“You know…” Sam started up again when all was peaceful.

“Leave me alone, Sam. Play with your dolls before you get us both in trouble.”

“You haven’t been an angel this year. You got five detentions.”

“Shut up, Sam.”

Without putting her book down Mrs. Smith refereed, “Do not tell your sister to shut up. And Sam, leave your brother alone.”

For a second Sam was quiet…but then, “And you got in trouble for teasing that girl on the bus.”

“SHUT UP!”

“That’s it!” Mr. Smith stood up and pointed to the stairs. “To bed with you both. Now!”

Wes gave Henry one last scratch and begrudgingly stood, accompanying his sister to the staircase. “See what you did, you little twirp.”

“I am not a little twirp, you big bag of—”

“Up! Now!” Mr. Smith watched them ascend the staircase before plopping back into his chair. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I don’t know why they do this, on Christmas Eve no less.”

“They’re kids, Jack. It’s what they’re supposed to do. Let’s go to bed too. We’re gonna be up early, no doubt.”

“You’re right, let’s go.”

Mr. Smith spread out the embers in the fireplace and carefully smothered them with cool ashes.

“Wouldn’t want Santa getting a hot ember up his ass,” he said with a smile.

Mrs. Smith chuckled. “No, we certainly wouldn’t want that.”

They walked to the staircase. “Goodnight, Henry. Watch the house and keep us safe. Good boy,” Mr. Smith called out before ascending the stairs.

Henry’s short curly tail wagged in response. Mr. Smith said the same thing every night, every night for the last ten years, and Henry took it seriously, though he never had to do much in the way of being a guard dog. Not a lot of threats in a suburban neighborhood. Nevertheless, Henry took his position on top of the ottoman, which afforded him a good view of the front door and the kitchen which led to the back entry. He settled in with his favorite chew bone and got to work on it. About an hour into his watch his eyes were becoming quite heavy. A half an hour later, he was snoring.

All was silent in the Smith household, except for the loud rumble coming from Henry’s sinuses. The little dog twitched, rolled, and let out a slight growl. Perhaps he was chasing a squirrel in his dreams? His twitching knocked off his chew bone from the ottoman, causing a slight thump on the carpet. His guard dog instincts jolted him from his dreams. He stood on alert, his flappy ears raised, his bulbous eyes wide, and his squashed little nose sniffing vigorously. He looked at the front door, nothing. He jumped off the ottoman and inspected the kitchen, nothing. Satisfied he returned to his perch and snuggled back in. He was nearly back asleep when…

THUD!

Henry shot up on all fours. Before he even knew what was happening, he opened his mouth and let out a thunderous deluge of yapping. Normally this would have sent Mr. Smith flying down the stairs…but no one came. Henry looked toward the direction of the sound…something was crouching within the fireplace. Two beady, glowing eyes stared back at him. Henry let out a low growl. The thing unfurled and raised itself out of the fireplace. It was large, its head nearly touching the ceiling. It wore a ragged robe that covered most of its body except for its feet, which weren’t feet at all, but rather, hooves. Out of its hood, two large curling horns poked out from the top of its head.

Henry had never seen nor smelt an animal like this before, but he knew no fear and had a job to do…protect the Smiths. He jumped down from the ottoman and ran up to the beast. He attempted barking again, but to no avail, still no Smith came running. The creature laughed a throaty rumbling laugher causing Henry to whine and a tremble to shake his small body.

“Your bark is no good, dog. I have put a spell on this house. I’ve come for the children, and you will not stop me. Move or I will crush you.” The monster’s voice was deep and unearthly. Henry held his position.

The monster raised a hoof, drew it back, and punted poor Henry across the living room. Henry collided with the wall with a sickening THWACK!

With a stinging in his left side Henry shakily stood and faced the beast again. The creature was holding something in his left hand. Something long, like a snake…a whip. It drew the whip back and thrashed it toward Henry with a loud CRACK!

It stung his right eye causing him to whimper and retreat further back. He rubbed his hurt eye with his paw but could not regain vision in it. The creature took a monstrous step toward the staircase. Regaining composure, Henry posted himself in front of the stairs and growled at the beast who merely laughed again in return.

The creature took another step and was directly in front of Henry and the staircase. Henry growled and planted his feet, ignoring the agonizing pain radiating from his side. The creature lifted his hoof again, this time to finish Henry for good. He sent his hoof barreling down to land on top of Henry’s head, but like a dog half his age, Henry zipped to the left, evading the hoof by a millisecond. He then zoomed behind the creature and jumping up to find a nice meaty section of his leg, Henry bit down on the beast.

A loud, agonizing roar admitted from the creature as he whipped around, trying to shake the small dog from the back of his leg. Henry held on; his sharp little teeth engrained within the rough, sour meat of the creature. With a loud shrill of pain, the creature finally managed to reach around and grab the dog with one large hand, ripping him off and throwing him across the room. Henry rolled five times before impacting with the wall. Henry laid still, his breathing shallow, his teeth still clenching a chunk of the beast he managed to take with him.  

Black blood oozed from the beast’s leg. He roared in pain. He pressed his clawed hand against the wound, but the blood kept flowing. Defeated, he limped back to the fireplace, crouched, and shot up and out of the Smith household.

The living room was in disarray, furniture knocked over and black blood staining the walls and the carpet. Henry laid still. His breathing slowed. His mouth fell open and the chunk of sour meat fell out. He closed his eyes. All was still once again in the Smith household…

That is, until something else stirred within the fireplace…

A fat man in a red suit squeezed himself out of the small opening. He looked around at the destroyed living room and knew what had taken place. His eyes landed on the small lump in the corner. The man breathed in sharply at the sight. He rushed over to Henry and laid a gloved hand on his side.

“I am proud of you, Henry,” the man said in a deep sorrowful voice. “You are a good boy.”

Henry weakly wagged his curly little tail.

“Allow me to give you a present for doing your job so well.”

A soft yellow glow admitted from the man’s hand, enveloping Henry’s body. They stayed like that for a moment or two before…

Henry shot up on all fours. He yapped happily at the man and jumped up to lick his bearded face.

He chuckled gleefully and patted Henry’s round head. “Good boy, Henry. Who’s a good boy?”

Henry answered affirmatively.

The man stood and walked over to the fireplace and pulled out a large red sack. He reached in and retrieved a huge, shiny white bone. Placing it in front of Henry, he gave him one last pat. Henry wagged his curly tail and eagerly began gnawing on his present.

“Now,” the man said, “I’ve got work to do.” So, he set to work and was done within minutes. The living room was pristine, and beautifully wrapped presents surrounded the Christmas tree. Satisfied with his work he slung his bag over his shoulder and squeezed back into the fireplace and was gone. Henry struggled to get the enormous bone onto the ottoman, but after several tries, he managed it, and after a few minutes of joyfully chewing he fell into a restful sleep.

When morning arrived Sam and Wes excitedly ripped open their beautiful presents while Mr. and Mrs. Smith sat on the couch and sipped coffee. Henry laid on Mr. Smith’s lap panting contently.

“Does it look like Henry has gotten some of his color back?” Mr. Smith asked his wife as he examined Henry’s coat. “Like…he’s not as grey anymore…he looks…rejuvenated.”

“Hm…he does…weird.”

Mr. Smith chuckled. “I think Henry’s gonna be with us for quite a few more Christmases.”

“Let’s hope so.”

Mr. Smith scratched Henry’s ear. “Who’s a good boy?”

Henry barked affirmatively.