Holiday Cheer from Andrew Grey and Amy Lane

Prologue

Prologue

I STILL miss Mom Claire. She got me when I was just a puppy, and I remember her looking me in the eyes and smiling. I licked her face and peed on her because I was so excited to meet her. Mom Claire always smelled better than dog biscuits and even ham, though she didn’t smell better than chicken, because nothing smells better than chicken. The breeder lady called me bad, but Mom Claire smiled and said it was okay. I licked her face again, and she held me close. That was when I knew she loved me.

Mom Claire took me home and fed me good stuff. She gave me a nice place to sleep right at the foot of her bed on a small pad of my own. I always thought of Mom Claire as special… and she was.

People came and went. Some were nice, and some, like her son Weasel—or Wesley, I’m not sure—were not nice and smelled bad. I knew I had to protect Mom Claire from him, even if she didn’t know it.

I always thought Mom Claire and I would be together forever, but then one night, I was asleep and the angels came and took Mom Claire away. They didn’t take the people part of her, just the love part. I missed her and stayed with Mom Claire because I didn’t want her to be alone.

Then Weasel came and put me in a crate. I barked and snapped at him because I wanted to stay with Mom Claire, but she was gone, and now so was my home and everything. He drove and drove. I liked the car with Mom Claire. She used to stop at McDonald’s, and she always gave me a bite of her hamburger. But Weasel didn’t do anything like that, so I lay down in the crate, my head on my paws, watching the back of the seat. I didn’t know what was going to happen, and I was scared. The car smelled funny, like old cheese and stinky feet. I love cheese, but this smelled yucky and gross.

Finally the car stopped, and Weasel lifted the crate out of the stinky car. I was happy for the fresh air and stood, looking out the crate door, wagging my tail in excitement. Was this my home? No, not home. Shelter . I heard that word a lot.

There were lots of other dogs. Some of them watched like me, wanting to play. Others were old and tired. Some were even sick, but Mitchell, the good man at the shelter, tried to make them feel better. Mitchell was nice and gave me treats. He also gave me a shot, which wasn’t nice, but then he gave me a treat, so that was okay, and the shot didn’t hurt that much.

Still, the shelter was loud, with barking dogs and stuff, and I missed Mom Claire a lot . I missed sleeping with her and the walks we took, and I missed looking out the front window to watch out for things. Mom Claire didn’t have dog eyes, not like me. Mostly I missed the love.

People came and went, and a lot of them took dogs with them. For everyone, I put my paws on the door of the enclosure and wagged my tail, excited to see if they would like me and take me to a forever home. That was all I wanted—a forever home, like what I thought I had with Mom Claire. But I wasn’t a quitter. Mom Claire had loved me with her whole heart, and I wanted that again, so I didn’t give up, no matter what.