The Perfect Present

I bent down to peer in the cage and saw a pair of gloomy eyes staring out at me. Getting down on all fours, I released the latch on the cage door and eased it open.

"Come on Nicki," I coaxed in my best 'You can trust me and I may even have cookies for you' voice.

Nicki was a little dachshund/poodle cross from the animal shelter. She had been given up by her family because they were moving to the city and couldn’t have animals in the apartment they would be renting. I couldn’t imagine the fear and confusion that she must be feeling. Ripped from the only home that she had known in her five years. Everything comfortable and familiar gone.

The lovely lady that ran the animal shelter had called and asked that I bath and groom little Nicki to make her presentable and perhaps increase her chance of finding a home. Just two days before Christmas, I had all the customers that I could handle, but I had made a commitment to provide free grooms to the shelter in the hopes that it would help place the dogs. I would shuffle customers around and work through lunch and dinner but I wouldn’t say no to a shelter dog.

Nicki crawled towards me on her belly. When she got to the front of the carrier she suddenly turned into a wiggling, wagging bundle of fur. Crawling onto my lap, she tried to lick my face. Laughing, I picked her up and cuddled her.

"You’re a funny little thing, aren’t you girl?" I cooed into her ear. She seemed to be OK after all, but when I looked into her eyes I could see loss and desperation. In my years of working with abandoned animals, I have come to recognize that look. Pets know when they have lost their families. Some handle it well. Some don’t. Some, like Nicki, seem to make a decision to put on an act whenever they come across someone who might give them a home. She was wiggling and wagging and licking in an attempt to woo me, but she couldn’t hide that look in her eyes.

"Sorry girl," I murmured softly. "I have six pets already and simply can’t make room for even one more, but let's see what we can do about making you beautiful."

Nicki had the kind of hair that you can’t really do much with. You could tell that it wanted to curl like a poodle’s coat, but the dachshund heritage flattened it out a bit. She was left with a flat, wavy coat that wouldn’t look good long or short. I choose a middle-of-the-line approach, and after her bath and blow dry, I clipped her coat to about 3/4 of an inch in length. I trimmed her nails and shaped her head then topped it off with a red velvet Christmas bow on her collar.

"There you are girl," I told my littlest client. "You are beautiful and all ready for Santa now."

I picked her up and gave her one last cuddle before I placed her in her cage. She stared out at me with those expressive eyes and I knew what she wanted for Christmas. I prayed that she would get it.

The next little while was very busy. Schnauzers and poodles and pups with questionable lineage all to be made beautiful for the big day. The afternoon was a whir of hair and baths and more hair. We had company from out of town visiting for Christmas so the room was usually full of people as well as dogs and hair.

The door opened and my Mom and Step-Dad Bert walked into the confusion. They had just moved to our town in the summer time. After eleven years of living in different towns, this would be our first Christmas together. It would be a hard Christmas. Bert had lost his son in the spring and I knew that this first Christmas since Andrew’s death would be a hard one. He hid his grief well but every once in a while, when he didn’t know you were looking, his body would slump and his face would suddenly look old. It wasn’t hard to tell what he was thinking about.

I couldn’t stop grooming to visit but they were used to talking with me among clouds of dog hair and dryers. We chatted for a few minutes then I caught myself saying...

"I have a dog for you."

Where did that come from? I asked myself. They weren’t ready for another dog yet. 

But even as I questioned myself, I found myself leaning over and releasing the latch on Nicki’s cage. There were six people and five dogs in the room, but Nicki bounded from her cage and ran straight to Bert. She began dancing at his feet. The best dance she could come up with while wiggling and wagging.

"Well aren’t you a sweetie," Bert laughed, looking down at Nicki. "You’re a bear dog."

Nicki panted and danced in agreement. Bert reached down and scooped her up. They stared into each other's eyes and I fancied that I saw a light of recognition. Perhaps they understood that each was filled with a need. Whatever the case, Nicki reached up to lick Bert’s face. He cuddled her for a minute then put her on the floor.

"What’s her story?" he asked.

"Her family moved and couldn’t take her," I told him.

We were interrupted by a strange sound. We looked down to where Nicki was emitting a howling, yawning, squeaking sound. She was staring up at Bert and talking to him.

"She’s asking to be picked up," I laughed. "I’ve never heard her do that before."

I couldn’t wait for anymore of the show. I had to get the dog I was working on into the tub. I scooped up my client and headed for the wash tub in the bathroom.

As I was washing Tessie, I thought about Nicki and Bert. If I had had time to think about what I was doing, I never would have told them that Nicki needed a home. Their old dog, Charlie, was fifteen years old and they wanted to wait until he was gone before even thinking about getting another dog. Charlie was engrained into every aspect of their lives and very much loved. What would he think of a new member of the family? 

I was giving Tessie her final rinse when Bert appeared at the doorway.

"We’ll take her," he said.

I turned around and stared at him

"What?" I asked.

"She’s coming home with us," he said. I scooped Tessie into a towel and looked questioningly at Mom.

"It appears that we have bonded," she smiled

I looked over at Nicki, nestled into Bert’s arms. Just then she gave a sigh of contentment and looked up at me. I looked into her eyes, searching for signs that she was acting like this out of desperation for a home. I saw instead a look of contentment and love. Nicki was home.

They came to visit the next day. Mom, Bert, Nicki and Charlie. It was a quieter day as I had chosen not to work Christmas Eve. Mom and I had a chance to steal off for a moment and talk.

"You know, that dog never leaves his side," Mom said. "After only one day, she follows him around and hates to be out of his sight. Of course that isn’t a problem as he won’t have her out of his sight either."

I looked at Bert. He seemed to be holding himself a little straighter. Nicki couldn’t erase the pain of Andrew’s death but I knew that she would ease it a little.

It’s strange how things work out. Why had I blurted out those words when they had never even been in my head? Why had Mom and Bert come over at that particular time? I couldn’t answer those questions, but I did know that some force had been guiding the events and given Nicki and Bert the best Christmas present of all.

© 2001 by Jayne Bury

Jayne Bury, Pincher Creek, Alberta
Jayne Bury is a dog groomer in Pincher Creek in southern Alberta. She loves to write fiction and gets her material from those around her: two-legged and four-legged. This story happened last Christmas. Nicki is still with the family and is loved more every day.