Snowflakes for Christmas

Snowflakes drift, swirling past the treetops, falling gently to the ground without making a sound. In the night sky, they appear as darkened dots, only turning white when the spotlight from the porch illuminates their underbellies. Some glance my eyelashes, making me blink. Others land on my soft, black nose—icy pinpricks quickly melting—vapor from my nostrils disappearing into the cold, still night.

I’m not particularly cold. Layers keep me relatively warm, except the bottoms of my feet and parts of my belly, but I can curl my toes under and hold my legs together to ward off the elements.

Joyous sounds emit from within the warm clapboards. Shadows, cast out from soft, golden-lit windows, dance across the frozen ground; guests pass to and fro in front of the lamplight. Sharp, high clinking of glass and ice—voices rising and falling in sporadic crescendos, punctuated by raucous outbursts of laughter—pierce the darkness. 

The soft sound of wheels crunching gravel slowly increases in volume as another vehicle makes its way up the drive. The people chat quietly as they emerge from their car, walking up the short path to the porch. The woman’s shoes click on the slate flagstones; the man’s flat feet scuffle beside her. The familiar ding-dong of the doorbell makes me lift my head, my ears involuntarily rising with the sound.

When the porch door opens, light and gay revelry spill into the yard. For a moment, it is summer, and the party’s outside. But, in an instant, the door closes again. The muffled din continues behind the walls as lazy snowflakes settle in my fur. My head drops slowly to the ground once more, a latent whiff of savory meat passing deliciously by my observant nose. This I take in with a series of short sniffs to roll around, sample, and analyze in the many chambers of my nose, saving a little to relish in my olfactory memory. What I wouldn’t give to be in there right now!

But that’s why I’m not in there right now!

I know I would only be wagging my tail beside the buffet to share my season’s greeting with the humans as they fill their plates, but that’s not what my masters would think. They’d accuse me of begging for a bite and shoo me away with apologies to their guests. Of course, if someone were to hold a tasty morsel before my nose, it would only be polite to accept their gesture of kindness, but everything really isn’t just about food for me. There’s so much more.

After all, who goes for long walks down the trails, swims with the kids in summer, plays whatever game they choose, and lays at their feet every night while they read or watch TV? Who comes and offers sympathy and caring when they are sick or feeling down? Who is always there to greet them when they come home or guard and protect them from any harm? That’s not just about food! That’s unconditional devotion—love in its purest form.

And what about that cat? I mean, she’s ok and everything, but seriously. She shows up for dinner, then does whatever she wants all day. She doesn’t even have to go outside to poop, let alone if there’s a party going on. Why, I’ll bet she’s in there right now, rubbing all around the ankles of those people while they stand around the buffet! No one’s accusing her of begging. No-o-o! They just say, “Ooh, look at the nice kitty; she’s so sweet!” And Mom and Dad fawn over how she has the run of the house and is such a good pet. The truth is, Lu-Lu Bell couldn’t care less! She’d be out the door tomorrow if the cat food stopped.

But not me! I’m here through thick and thin, to follow them to the ends of the Earth if necessary. And where am I right now? Chained to a tree outside, while all of my best friends are warm and cozy inside, having the time of their lives!

But I'm not jealous or hurt. Those things just aren’t part of my emotions. Well, not for long anyway. I might feel it a little bit from time to time, like when Tommy makes me stay home when he and his friends go to play baseball in the park. He knows I want to come with him, but they think I’ll go after the ball—which I will—but only because I’m trying to share the fun. Or when Suzy screams and tells me to get away from her and her friends after we all get out of the water and I need to shake. They didn’t mind splashing me when we were swimming! But these things never last. The second they call me, all is forgotten, and I come running, wagging my tail as hard as I can, eager again to show them how much I love them.

I can hear them now. They’re inside with Mom, Dad, the guests… and the cat. I know they’re in their pajamas now, because they always are at this time of night. They’re probably just saying hi to all the guests and maybe having a few treats before going into the den to watch TV until bedtime. I could be with them right now, and should be, really. Oh, how I’d love to be cuddled between them while they lay on the floor, smiling and laughing while watching a Christmas special. But I haven’t been invited.

The night drones on. It’s really not so bad out here. I can look off into the surrounding woods and watch to see if any squirrels are about or anything else that might move in the night. But there’s nothing tonight; nothing worth barking about. It’s quiet. Just me, the darkness, and the snowflakes.

Eventually, the party winds down and the guests begin to leave. Laughter follows them out the door, and I sit, wagging my tail expectantly, hoping someone will notice so I can wish them a happy holiday. But nobody does. They just go by, get into their cars, and back slowly down the driveway. One man comes out staggering somewhat and talking very loudly. His wife follows him as he hugs the railing to go down the steps. At the bottom, she takes him by the arm and puts him in the passenger seat. She’s not talking very much as she gets in and drives away. People are interesting.

It's all quiet now. The music and laughter have stopped, and the lights begin to go out in the house when the door opens a final time. It’s Dad. Here he comes! I’m on my feet, wagging my tail as he makes his way over and unclips my chain.

“C’mon, Butch, time to come inside.”