It was early evening, the day before Christmas. The winter darkness had just set in and the canopy was heavy with storm clouds.
When Terrence walked through the front door, he paused, as he had for the past five years, waiting to hear the joyous click of nails in polished wood. Then he would turn to the hall, smiling, arms outstretched, before leaning in to welcome his furry baby girl, Mazy.
His happy breathless greeting was the sunlight at the end of his workday. But, as the months passed, he managed not to bend over to welcome her twisted body in a loving embrace. He had been away for a year, but some habits of the heart are hard to break.
A strong breeze blew through the entrance. Terrence leaned against the door to close it just as Terrence’s wife, Tammy, entered the room. Noticing the sudden expression of sadness on her husband’s face, she ran to him and hugged him tightly.
“I miss Mazy too. She loved Christmas!”
Terrence swallowed hard with a lump in his throat, hugged his wife back, and nodded.
~ * ~
He first saw Mazy while on a home call to apply for his job at the gas and electric company. He had been looking for the address of a client in an older industrial area of the city. He had passed an auto parts store and she was walking around the back and length of the small enclosure in which it was fenced. There was no grass in the corral, just dirt and a metal food plate. Every time a vehicle passed, she ran with him, smiling, wagging her tail, until she hit the rear fence. Then it bounced and ran to the other end.
She seemed desperate to find a friend in the passing cars. His behavior haunted Terrence, so after his call home ended, Terrence stopped by the business, hoping to speak to the owners about the dog. The office was closed for lunch.
Before taking off, Terrence wrote down the company phone number painted on the road sign. When he returned to the office, he dialed the number and spoke to the receptionist. He learned that the dog was kept there the entire time and that it had been there for just under a year. He told the receptionist that if the owner decided to get rid of the dog, he would love to be notified.
Two weeks before Christmas, Terrence received a phone call. The owners of the auto parts depot had sold the business. They could no longer stay with the Black Lab. Did he still love her?
It came home as an early Christmas gift. They had never given it a name. Tammy called her Mazy.
Tammy had hung a stocking on the mantel for Mazy, and when Christmas morning rolled around, Mazy silently walked over to the stocking full of doggie treats and gently removed it from the hook. Then he walked over to Terrence and handed him the stocking.
Terrence thought Mazy wanted him to get the little dads out of the way so she could have them. So Terrence took the stocking and put it on the floor, scooping out some of the contents, then sat down so he could watch Mazy enjoy her gifts.
To his surprise, Mazy shoved the items that had rolled back into the stocking, then grabbed the stocking with her teeth and handed it back to Terrence. Your gift to him. When Terrence looked at his wife, they both chuckled and at the same time blinked back tears of happiness. The real gift that Christmas had been Mazy’s welcome to her family.
Blessed with a loving and generous spirit, Mazy became a therapy dog, at the urging of Mazy’s obedience trainer Doug, he was a close family friend and suggested that Tammy bring Mazy on one of her visits. Doug volunteered with a group from the local SPCA and every Thursday they visited one of the convalescent hospitals.
Mazy was a natural in the art of caring and brightening the spirits of the visiting residents. It became very popular and attracted the interest of the press. During the Christmas holidays a year ago, a local television station did a special on therapy dogs and the benefits they bring to patients in care centers. Mazy was the star of the show and had gained an even larger following.
Soon after, while Terrence was at work and Tammy was running errands, someone had broken the lock on the backyard door and by the time Tammy got home, Mazy was gone. All efforts to locate her were unsuccessful and the loss of her soft girlish skin was a wound that sank deep into their hearts.
~ * ~
Tammy nudged her husband. “Come into the living room. I have two steaming mugs of chocolate and Irish cream waiting for us in front of the fireplace. You can light a fire and we’ll relax before the guests arrive later.”
Terrence followed his wife into the room. From the pile of firewood near the fireplace he prepared the fireplace. As he leaned down, he heard again the familiar sound of nails and feet on wood. He shook his head, just as a weight fell on his shoulders and back. Tammy gasped loudly and Terrence turned around.
Mazy, covering her face with sloppy kisses and doggy pants. Terrence hugged his fur girl. It was a dream. A dream, for sure. He heard the rustle of a piece of paper in his ear and stepped back. There, on Mazy’s neck, was a handwritten note.
Terrence sat back on his heels and looked into Mazy’s warm brown eyes. A cold stream filled the room. The front door was ajar, the porch light on. The sound of a car pulling out of his driveway faded when Terrence read the note.
~ * ~
“I have the feeling that your Christmas has gotten happier and mine a little sadder. More than six years ago, my wife, Donna, found an ebony puppy on our doorstep. She adored her and the puppy he became a member of our family.
“As the puppy grew, she would often disappear for days. Frantic at first, we would chase her, looking for her everywhere. Each time we would find her in the company of a human who, for various reasons, needed a friend. She did this so often We started calling her Chasy, and one day she didn’t come back.
“Eighteen months ago Donna was diagnosed with advanced Alzheimer’s. On Christmas Day last year, her Black Lab scratched on our front door. She looked a lot like our Chasy; I started calling her by that name. She and my wife were inseparable until that she died three days ago.
“After the funeral, Chasy grabbed a little Christmas stocking from the mantel, walked over and put it on my lap. She moaned, then trotted to the front door and scratched it to be let out.
“I opened the door. Chasy walked over to the hedges and began digging. In moments she was back with a dirty necklace in her mouth. Then she made soft sounds and dropped the necklace at my feet.
“When I picked it up, I noticed two dirty tags; a license tag and an identification tag. Mazy … couldn’t believe it. Her name was so similar to our Chasy. I looked from the tag to the Black Lab in front of me. Mazy’s expression went from hope to melancholy.
“Mazy leaned into me, her weight against my legs like an old friend’s hug. She looked at me and I knew her visit was over, she wanted to go home.
“I had cleaned his neck and the tags jingled intensely as he ran them over his head. Then I bent down and cried into his shiny fur.
“It was a smooth ride for the two of us, as I drove home. When I reached out to open the door and let Mazy out, she nudged my wrist, licked my hand, and sighed.
“In my sadness and pain, I had forgotten this letter. I pulled the note out of my shirt pocket to write the last words. I finished and looked at Mazy. She extended her head, urging me to place the note on her neck as we had practiced.
“Thank you, from a stranger who has been warmed by sunlight, wrapped in the brightest black fur I have ever seen. Welcome her well. When you hold her, please hold her for me. I couldn’t make it to say goodbye for afraid of not letting go. “
Tammy took the note and when she started to read, Terrence dug her hands into the warm ruff around Mazy’s neck and hugged her long and tight.
“Do you still have his stocking?” Terrence asked his wife.
“Sure you do,” she replied, through tears. Then she smiled slightly as tears welled up in her eyes.
Mazy wagged her tail and groaned in understanding. He turned to look at the front door, still ajar, and sighed.
His two humans were sobbing, talking softly, and staring at their furry girl. “Are you happy to be home, girl?”
Mazy walked to the front door, walked over to her, and then turned so her butt brushed hard against the wood and closed the door.
Mazy trotted over to her humans, stepped between them, and lowered her head. Terrence and Tammy leaned in appreciatively and hugged her. Mazy’s long, powerful tail began to wag fiercely and a smile adorned her ebony face.
Out front, parked across the street from the couple’s home, a man thought fondly of his wife and the blessing that had honored their lives last year in the form of a shiny Black Lab. Before finally walking away, he raised his head and thanked God.
Copyright © 2006 Kathy Pippig Harris