Here Comes Santa Paws (Christmas Falls: Season 2)

1. Elias

Chapter 1

Elias

“Spin for me, Prancer. Good boy!” The enthusiastic Wheaten Terrier barked eagerly, then caught the treat I tossed in his mouth.

Blitzen, the bulldog with a monocle-like marking around his left eye, snagged the shoelace of my Converse as he nudged his underbite against my foot. “Looking dapper as always.” He barked once in obvious confirmation. “Sit. Good boy.” I rewarded the adorable guy with a treat.

Prancer and Blitzen raced around the outdoor area behind Santa’s Helpers Animal Shelter with a half-dozen other dogs for their afternoon playtime.

We had a full house heading into the Christmas Falls Festival season. Our cozy Illinois hamlet, about four hours from Chicago, welcomed a flood of tourists to celebrate the festive season. Some of them, as well as locals, chose this time of year to add a furry member to their family.

Joy, our new Pitbull puppy arrival, plopped onto the pea gravel at my feet and rolled onto her back. Her tongue lolled out the side of her mouth as she wiggled her body. How could I deny her belly rubs? I crouched and rubbed my palm across the short hair on her tummy.

“The festival starts this week. You know what that means? It’s our busiest time of the year. I’m sure all of you will find a home by the new year.” She licked my hand when I reached to scratch her ear.

When I’d taken over as the shelter director four years ago, I’d worried the high adoption numbers came from tourists getting caught by the spirit and spontaneously choosing to adopt an animal as a gift. I wasn’t a fan of adoptions on a whim. Fortunately, I quickly learned that many tourists planned their trip around adopting a pet and used their time enjoying the festival to meet the animals and make thoughtful choices.

Christmas had always been my favorite holiday, but there was nothing like spending it in a Christmas-obsessed town. The festival season was full of events, from a tree lighting to ice sculpture demos to an Arts and Crafts Fair to a gingerbread house contest—and everything in between. It was like living in a Hallmark movie.

After giving Joy a treat for her best effort to sit, I left the dogs under the supervision of my fabulous volunteer and right-hand human, Nancy, to check on Carol. I’d kept her in a private kennel since she’d been found wandering a neighborhood, unchipped, and brought in after Halloween. In the weeks since, she’d been standoffish and anxious.

I walked down a hallway of kennels until I reached hers at the far end. A construction paper wreath with Carol scrawled in purple crayon hung next to the door. It was so sweet of the local elementary kids to make those for us.

“Good morning, Carol. How are you?” She scooted to the far corner as I let myself into her space and sat in the corner. She was a large Bernese Mountain Dog and Labrador mix with caramel-colored legs, white paws, and a black back. Her face had a white stripe down the middle, caramel cheeks and eyebrows, and black everywhere else.

I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but it was a difficult balance between socializing and trying to prepare pets for adoption. She also had a grumpy streak, which had been my personal catnip since I was a little kid, determined to win over the grouchy librarian.

To keep getting her used to my presence, I read emails aloud to her from my phone.

“I got the dogs put up,” Nancy said as she approached. “Still not responding?” She smiled warmly at me.

Despite how often I offered to find a way to pay her, she insisted on donating her time. She called it her retirement hobby. Her gray hair was pulled back into a bun and her dark-olive skin was flushed like it usually got after she played with the dogs.

“Nope, but we’ve got time. Maybe she’ll warm up to me after the holidays when it’s quieter here.”

She pulled a familiar biscuit from her apron. Even grumpy Carol couldn’t resist the peanut pumpkin bites made by Hank, the hockey director at the community center who moonlighted with a dog treat business called Bailey’s Dog Treats. I reached out to accept the biscuit from Nancy.

“Nancy brought you a treat.” Carol’s ears twitched, but she kept her distance. I tossed it toward her, then let myself out.

“She’ll be okay.” Nancy patted my back.

“I hope so. I know she’s stressed around all these animals, but since there’s no one available to foster her, I don’t have another option.”

“Don’t you mean no one who meets your qualifications?”

I laughed. “She needs a certain fit, and anyone I’d approve to take her already has a full house.”

“You’ve got a big heart.”

“Yours is bigger.”

She waved me off and smiled. “Two volunteers are coming in to help assemble more adoption goodie bags.”

“That’s perfect. All the flea medicine doses should arrive today too. Those are always a hit.”

I gave Carol one last look before Nancy and I moved to my office and continued discussing our preparation for all the adoptions we anticipated in the coming weeks. After confirming the volunteer schedule to help manage the influx of shelter visitors, we shifted to going over our participation in the festival events.

“Is Jasmyn still taking photos at the Santa Claws Pet Pics & Adoption event?”

I searched Jasmyn’s name in my email to double-check. I thought I’d confirmed with her last week. “She is.”

Lots of our adoption successes came to Sugar Plum Park to get photos of their furbabies with Santa, while others wanted to meet animals available for adoption. It was also one of our biggest fundraisers because of the shelter calendars we sold.

Nancy lowered her notepad. “I think that’s it.”

I leaned back in my office chair and felt the knot of tension between my shoulders melt away. “This gets easier and easier each year.”

Nancy clucked her tongue. “Don’t jinx us.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “I wonder if this Christmas will be as eventful as last year?”

“You mean when the cat got loose at pet pictures in the park?”

“I mean how many people fell in love. Valentine’s schmalentine’s. Christmas is the season of love around here. Instead of Cupid, we’ve got an elf. Think he’ll strike again?” Her dark eyes twinkled.

“Are you looking?” I leaned in and dropped my chin on my hands. Ever since her husband passed a few years ago, I hadn’t noticed her expressing interest in romance.

“I thought you might be. Did you hear there’s a matchmaking service in town? That sweetheart, Nick Morgan, is doing it.” A mournful expression crossed Nancy’s face. “His late wife, Nicole, was such a dear. It’s lovely he’s started matchmaking in her honor.”

“She was wonderful. But, Nancy, I’m way too busy to even think about dating. Plus, with Gramps’s surgery recovery, I’ve got no time.”

Her lips stretched into a thin line. “That’s an excuse people make when they choose not to make time.”

I opened my mouth to argue but couldn’t come up with anything.

“Speaking of Jim, how’s his recovery going?”

I snorted. My grandpa was a stubborn old man, and I loved the hell out of that wily troublemaker.

“He’s home recovering now, but he won’t let me stay with him.”

“It’s a hip replacement, not his deathbed. He’s tough.” An affectionate smile curved her lips.

“I know, but he’s supposed to follow strict orders for movement and rest. You think he’s going to follow those rules if he’s left to his own devices?” I blew out a breath.

She leaned toward the desk and patted my hand. “I’m sure he’ll call if he needs you.”

“At least he’s following through with physical therapy.” I glanced at my watch. “Actually, his first appointment is this afternoon.”

Her sweet smile shifted into a teasing grin. “Hopefully, the PT can think on their toes.”