[Askoga]: 89.Snippets.Kiera's Accounts.25Dec08

December 25, 2008

Christmas morning found me awakening slowly, still looking like a giant, shaggy-furred mutt. I stretched, shook myself, then proceeded to remove the straw from my fur. Once done with my morning grooming, I trotted out in search of some breakfast. I figured that there'd be people nearby, since the barn I'd slept in seemed in good repair. I barked a brief hello to the cows in a nearby field and trotted on down the road. Humans who took good care of their livestock probably wouldn't mind sharing with a stray dog. At least, I hoped they wouldn't. I wouldn't get far with no food.

Eventually, I found the farmhouse. It was late in the morning, and the entire family was awake and out around the house. I sat outside the gate and pawed at it, whining a little. I tried to be careful not to scratch the wood, but dog's claws make that difficult. One of the children saw me and came over to the fence to look.

“Daddy, look! It's a dog! She doesn't have a collar, can we keep her?”

A man whom I assumed was the father came to look and smiled down at me, his white teeth standing out against his dark lips. “She does look hungry,” at this point I whined again and pawed at the gate, making it rattle, “but she seems to well-behaved to be a stray. Well, let's let her in, and she can eat with Ginger.”

He opened the gate, and I happily bounded in, my tongue hanging out the side of my mouth. The first thing I did was trot over to the little girl and lick her hand, barking happily. Then I turned to the father and butted my head against his leg in thanks. Finally, I trotted about the yard happily, greeting the people I met in what I hoped was an appropriately dog-like manner. I kept my paws on the ground, though, not wanting to knock anyone over.

Eventually, my stomach got the better of me, and I went in search of food. Ginger, it turned out, was an old golden retriever, and she greeted me gracefully enough, and generously pointed me in the direction of the food bowl after I explained why I was there.

“Make yourself at home, young one,” she barked after me, then rested her head back on her paws. I looked back at her and yapped an affirmative. I ate from her food bowl hungrily, but left some for her. The little girl came over while I was eating, and sat down to watch me.

She spoke to me after a bit, “If daddy can't find your owners, I hope we can keep you. You're a pretty dog, and I like you, and you don't knock me down like Nick's dog does. He's funny, though, he likes to lick my face, and he wags his tail lots and lots.” I trotted over to her and sat down in front of her, wagging my tail in the dirt, letting my tongue loll out the side of my mouth and tilted my head just a bit to one side. She grinned and reached out to scratch my ears.

Suddenly, she hopped up, grinning, and dashed away, “Betcha can't catch me!” she called over her shoulder. Recognizing this game, I dashed after her, barking happily, and ran alongside her about the farm. Some other children joined in, and when they tired, we stopped and some of the boys wrestled with me for a little while. I was so happy playing with the children, I quite forgot about Derek and his experimental labs. Ginger trotted over later in the day to join us, and she told me that if I waited near the table, the people might give me some food from their plates. I declined as gracefully as I could and let her beg scraps. I laid down in a corner of the yard and watched, with my chin on my paws.

The father came over after they finished eating and set a plate of meat scraps in front of me, which I happily devoured, my tail wagging with delight. He squatted down next to me and pet me. “You're a good dog, Girl. I bet there's someone out there missing you. I hope we can find them for you. But why'd you run away, Girl?” He sat there, petting me silently for a while longer, then rose, took the plate, and went inside. Ginger got up and plodded in behind him, but I stayed outside. I lay down on the front porch and watched the sun set.

My last thoughts of the evening were that this had been a lovely Christmas, and maybe I did have some luck left in me after all.