Dog on the Doorstep and Other Christmas Animal Tales

By Lark Griffing

Curl up next to the fire for some heartwarming short reads.
The sweet smell of a squirmy puppy under the Christmas tree...
The loyalty of an old dog to an old woman...
The promise of hope ...
The belief in love...
The magic of Christmas and a furry friend.

Dog on the Doorstep is a collection of holiday short stories and flash fiction sure to warm your heart. If you're looking for some quick reads to remind you of love and give you hope, these short stories about our furry companions will fulfill that wish.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wind Lark Publishing
• Release date: Nov 19, 2018
• ISBN: 9798985669244

Book preview

Dog on the Doorstep

Also by Lark Griffing

A Gone to the Dogs Camper Romance

Teardrops and Flip Flops: A Laugh Out Loud Romantic Comedy about a Traveling Widow, Her Rescue Dog, and the Men Who Want to Court Them

Teardrops and Rest Stops: A Warm Your Heart Romantic Comedy about Two Travelers and the Dog Who Judges Them

Standalone

Dog on the Doorstep and Other Christmas Animal Tales

DOG ON THE DOORSTEP

And other Christmas Animal Tales

LARK GRIFFING

Wind Lark Publishing

Copyright © 2018 by Lark Griffing

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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ISBN - 979-8-9856692-4-4

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Formatting by Wind Lark Publishing

To all the animals who have ever dedicated their lives to loving and comforting me. It has been an honor and privilege to have had them in my life. Also to my amazing veterinarian, Dr. Joe Doles, who has cared for every single one of them.

Contents

Part I

Dog on the Doorstep

Lady George

The Purpose

A Silent Night Gift

Part II

1. Puppy Chow and Poinsettias

2. Picking up the Pup

3. Presents from the Puppy

4. Christmas Dickens

A Note from the Author

Also by Lark Griffing

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Did you enjoy the sample chapters of The Starfish Talisman?

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Part I

Dog

Dog on the Doorstep

"T hat old stray is out there again, Chief."

Officer Clark pointed out the window into the dusk. Chief Dunn looked up and caught a glimpse of the German Shepard that was slinking along the woods at the back of the property.

Damn it. He’s cagey, said Dunn. When Ronnie’s out there, he doesn’t show, but the minute Ronnie’s gone, that dog comes out and gloats.

Yeah, but even Ms. Millie’s dog can evade Ronnie. He’s not the most gifted dog catcher.

The chief snorted in agreement.

He watched the dog from the window. The dog stopped, turned, and looked at the station house. The chief froze. The dog’s eyes met his. They held each other. The dog sniffed the air, then opened his mouth in a big toothy grin. He held the chief’s gaze for another second and then disappeared into the woods and gloom.

Chief Dunn picked up his coffee and watched the dusk settling. It was going to be a freezing cold night. Good thing that dog has a thick coat, he thought.

The dog trotted along the ditch until he came to a narrow spot. He leapt over the water and scrambled up the other side finding the place here where he could wiggle under the wire fence. He had done it several nights in a row. He had to flatten himself and belly crawl, his coat catching and tearing on the wires, but it couldn’t be helped. Once through, he moved silently deeper into the woods to the ancient oak tree. There, under the gnarled mass of roots was an old den. The dog crawled into the underground nest and bedded down for the night. His stomach ached with hunger, but that couldn’t be helped either. He would try to find a meal tomorrow. Now he needed to curl up and conserve his warmth. He had a job to do. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew he had a purpose, a reason to be where he was. He just needed to be patient. It would be revealed to him soon.

The pains were coming faster now. Trina lay on the dirty mattress, panting, trying to remember what she had been told about breathing, about birthing, about anything. Johnny told her it would be okay. It was natural. They didn’t need any help. She took a drag off the joint in between contractions. Johnny suggested it would take the edge off. Trina was beginning to think Johnny didn’t know a damn thing. She was hot, and she was cold, and her body was wracked with pain. She looked over at Johnny who was now leaning against the wall. Stoned. She sighed. If the needle came out, she was going to have to go it alone. She loved him, but it was dawning on her that she couldn’t count on him.

Another contraction hit, strong and long. She gasped against the pain, panting, blowing, trying anything that would help. She cried out to Johnny for some water. He just smiled at her from the wall. She was on her own.

What was she going to do? How would she care for this baby? She could barely care for herself. Johnny got enough work to feed their stomachs and their cravings and that was it. He said babies didn’t need diapers. They didn’t have them years ago. He said they wouldn’t need diapers or formula. They wouldn’t need anything for this baby. Things would work themselves out. They always did. He would smile at her after he said that. The smile gave her chills. Another round of contractions hit. The tiny fire Johnny had started on the concrete floor was dying. The pain took her away as the room grew colder and night fell.

The next morning brought snow. By afternoon, four inches lay on the ground. The chief noticed dog tracks in the field behind the station house. He shrugged on his overcoat and went out the back door. The tracks led from the ditch at the back of the property across the field, straight to the station house garbage cans. It looked like the dog sniffed around the cans but didn’t manage to get in.

The poor guy must be hungry, the chief thought. It was a cold night last night and going to be colder tonight. Without food, it would be hard for an animal to maintain body heat.

For a minute the chief felt like he was being watched. His years behind a badge had him develop an uncanny sense of situational awareness. Something was off. Something or someone was watching him.

He knew it had to be the dog. He just didn’t know where the animal was. He scanned the ditch where the tracks had led the animal back toward the woods. He didn’t see anything, but he knew the dog was there.

The back door opened, and a skinny, stooped man stepped out.

Afternoon, Chief.

Afternoon, Ronnie.

That dog been lurkin’ about here earlier, I see.

Yep.

Haven’t been able to get him, but don’t you worry. It’ll take some time, but he’ll land in the pound. I’ll make sure of it.

You do that, Ronnie. The chief looked back to the woods. The feeling of being watched was gone. The dog was gone. Ronnie’s appearance had sent him deep into hiding.

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The chief went back inside and worked for a couple of hours at his desk. The wind had picked up and the snow began again in earnest. It drove pellets against his window making an annoying tapping sound. Chief Dunn drained his cold late afternoon coffee and stood up. He was hungry, having skipped lunch. As he zipped up his coat and settled his fur-lined hat on his head, he spoke to the desk officer on duty.

I’m going out for a bit. Do you need anything?

No, but thank you Chief, Officer Rollins replied. Molly packed me a great dinner tonight. I’m sure I have plenty, do you want to share with me?

Chief Dunn smiled and assured the young man he would be fine. Ever since his Martha had died, aneurysm, thank God it was quick, his team had not so subtly tried to take care of him. All of his officers’ hens sent extra pieces of pie in their husband’s pails. It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful, he just usually didn’t feel like eating.

He exited the building and walked toward his cruiser. The sharp ice crystals assaulted his face, the wind creeping into every open space his outerwear left vented. As he lowered himself to get into the driver’s seat his eye caught a movement. It was the dog, nosing by the garbage cans again. He stopped, his front right paw raised, frozen.

You’re hungry, aren’t you pal?

The dog stared at the chief steadily.

Go back to where you belong. Don’t let Ronnie catch you and put you in the pound.

The dog’s ears twitched, listening to the chief’s voice. He didn’t detect any malice. He didn’t detect any danger. The dog yawned a wide smile, turned, and trotted off to the shelter of the woods.

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Chief Dunn drove around the streets of his town, picturesque, as the snow continued to fall. Any other Christmas would have found him humming carols to himself in the car anticipating coming