A Christmas Story

It was a bitterly cold winter in the U.P. of Michigan.Our wood frame home wasnt well insulated and heated by an old style wood range. My cat had an old sweater under there where she slept when she wasnt tormenting the dog.

Oh, our poor dog. Dad had won at a card game in spring, with some of Moms cousins who raised bear-hunting hounds. The cousins just got by so Dad had said he'd take a pup instead of cash, and looked in the box where mama hound had just jumped in to feed the good sized pups. One little runt was facing a corner and finally turned around. Of course that was ours. We never had been allowed a dog before so it took a while till we realized how dumb he was. The cat knew right away and treated him accordingly. My sisters and I loved little Sammy anyhow.

Mom got up at 5am to rescue the fire and try to warm up the house. At six, we got up. The oven door was open and if you turned around every few minutes, you could stay fairly warm on all sides. Since it was Christmas Eve, we got to sleep in, but the bed was cold and the sun wouldnt come up until 8am. It was a very important day, because finally one of us was going to be recognized...I was going to wear a peach colored "angel" dress and carry a lamb down the churh aisle with nine other angels who would put the figures in the wooden stable. It was for perfect attendance for two years. (We had no running water and an outdoor toilet so of course I never missed school).

Mom was touching up the Satin gown and my sisters were all ready. At the end of the hall from the kitchen the door to the front room was open and the tree we had cut last week stood bejeweled with gramma and great-grammas wonderful blown glass ornaments and lights tinsel. I had to put a little sweater on under the dress because it was cold,the wind and snow were howling.I looked out the small window onto the porch and saw Sammy shivering under some old blankets. "Oh Momma," I said. "Please please let poor Sammy in for Christmas".She said no, dogs arent supposed to be in the house. Dad looked up from his newpaper and said neither is that damn cat (they had an ongoing feud).My sisters chimed in so Mom said ok but only til morning.

O joyous Christmas, the door was opened and she let Sammy in. He was suprised to say the least. He didnt know what to do. In the commotion he began running down the freshly waxed hall, skidding on throw-rugs, heading for the tree.I saw it and ran after him, Mom saw it and grabbed the broom and Sammy braked too late and slid into the tree and hundred year old ornaments flew in all directions and I threw myself over him to protect him from the wrath of the broom...and he peed all over the nun's handmade peach-colored satin angel dress.

That night at Midnight Mass, Shirley, my friend carried two sheep instead of one up to the crib...We sat in the back to make a quick exit so I wouldnt have to explain. Later Dad built a nice insulated box for Sammy. And the cat feasted on the whole drama for weeks.

But nothing could destroy Christmas. We opened gifts next day and had a turkey dinner and went to see Gramma and got a box of crayons each. We learned NOTHING can ruin Christmas.