The Last Wish of Christmas

The Last Wish of Christmas

Fate unwinds its own path.  The truth is, I haven’t always been a dog. Appearances can be deceptive.

The lights from the Christmas tree blink blue and yellow. At least, that’s what I see. I used to watch reds suffuse with blues and greens. That was before. Canines have dichromatic vision. My owner’s pacing up and down the lounge. She fades in and out with the dim, pulsing lighting as I stare at her. It’s dinner time. Jade always was beautiful. She still is. Thirty-something with raven-black hair, eyes of emerald-green and a face that makes her look like a young Jayne Seymour. She turns heads wherever she goes. The tension is palpable. She is waiting for her partner to arrive. I watch as she bites her fingernails, her head full of anxiety. She sees me and smiles, remembering the time and heads for the kitchen. I follow, tail wagging.

There is always a sense of anticipation on Christmas Eve. It’s a special time with most rushing around to get things done in time for the big day. Tills ring with last minute sales, out of office messages are gleefully clicked as workers head for home and bars and restaurants hum with yuletide patrons. A feeling of goodwill permeates the house; tangibly through the smell of vegetables cooking and a turkey being roasted. It pays to prepare before the day itself arrives. A bowl of Chappie will suffice for me in the meantime. I look up having licked the metal bowl clean. Jade looks good in her black dress. The doorbell rings and she glances towards the sound. We both know who it is.

I wander back into the living room. As well as the Christmas tree in the corner, there’s a three-piece settee with candy-striped cushions that surrounds a glass-topped coffee table sitting on top of a white, fluffy rug. The floor is Norwegian-pine with a flat-screen TV perched in the corner. Seasonal decorations litter the lounge. From pictures framed in tinsel to snow globes lining the mantel-piece, the place is alive with colour. I flop down close to a chair. I hear the approach of Jade with the door being pushed open. Trooping in after her is Trevor. Tall, elegant and articulate, her partner is a well-mannered doctor working at a hospital in the centre of Gloucester. He has swapped workwear for a fleece jacket and slacks. We have met before.

Strip-lighting on a ceiling, passing rapidly overhead. Muffled sounds, faces peering down. The rumble of a stretcher as the wheels bump across the ground. People stop and stare, looking back as the entourage races on. My eyes blink. A room shifts in and out of consciousness. Saccades. A face is bearing down on me, looking closely, inches away. I can hear a voice but it’s like being under water.  The sound become clearer. It’s a man wearing blue scrubs.

We all move into the kitchen. Jade has made dinner. The table is set for two. Placemats are flanked by cutlery. He takes a seat and she hovers at the cooker, pans on a hob with steam rising from them. I can smell every odour. I watch as she brings the first course, food still cooking in the background. Prawn cocktail with a side-salad served in glasses. Drool seeps out of the corners of my mouth. I follow their mouths as they exchange small talk. Jade looks over at me. I have my head cocked to one side. She exclaims that she swears that I can understand what they are saying. I can. Sound is enough but I like to put a name to a voice so I watch mouths move. Jade gets up and wanders over to where I am sitting on my haunches. She ruffles the fur on my head and brushes her face against my cheeks. She says she loves my big, brown eyes. I close them and sigh. Oxytocin exchanged.

The dinner for two goes on for a while. They seem so close these days. Trevor wasn’t always around. He came on the scene a few months ago. They met at a dinner party; a meeting engineered by mutual friends who thought they would make a good match. I have mixed feelings. I care for Jade more than you can know. She doesn’t cry so often now. I remember drifting into her bedroom months ago. There is a framed photograph perched on a side-stand. It is of a man and a woman with their arms around each other. She is wearing a wide-brimmed, straw hat, a cream-coloured top and cropped, denim shorts with flip flops. He has on a white tee and dark-blue, knee-length shorts. They are standing on a beach, waves lapping at their feet as the tide comes in, both smiling at the camera. In love. We were married once.

I have been outside of her bedroom so many times listening to her sobbing with the door shut. In the dark shadows of late evening, I have lain at her feet as she cupped a tumbler of scotch trying not to remember. In the early hours she has curled up beside me in the lounge, unable to sleep in her bed. She loves me as I am. It seemed that future was fated for us to savour the years. Time has a way of intervening when you least expect. Destiny has found a way to keep us together. I’m not sure if I want that disrupted by another. Emotions run deep.

I am floating on the ceiling looking down at a woman. The room is stark with light-blue, painted walls, wooden chairs and a coffee table with old magazines spread out across it. She looks apprehensive. A man walks in. They exchange a silent look and then he speaks. I can hear the low tone; almost whispering. The woman looks around the room, her eyes seeking solace. Then she bursts into tears. He hesitates wondering whether a hug is appropriate. And then he does. She folds into his arms.

I got bored with watching them eat a while ago. So back in the lounge it is and lying with my face resting on my paws in front of the fire. I can detect the faint sound of padding. One eye opens and I spot Petra the Siamese cat creeping past. I leap up and chase her into the kitchen. There’s a commotion as Jade and Trevor hear the sound of a cat yowling. It’s only a bit of fun. I smile inside. We share a love-hate relationship, me and the oriental moggie. She likes to lie in wait for me, crouched on a chair under the table. When I forget she’s there, she swipes her paws at me as I pass by, hisses and runs off.

Things calm down and the diners slide the glass, patio door open and step into the garden. A light comes on sensing motion. They stand on the lawn with partly-drunk, glasses of wine in their hands. On both sides are panelled, wooden fences lined by rose bushes. A stone sun-dial stands in the middle of the garden. At the bottom is a row of bushes. On the other side is common land that forms a hill. Sheep use it during the day. In the evening, the sun sets on the brow.

They stand and talk. Jade recounts her day at the village shop in Brierley, serving old people and peddling local gossip. Trevor expounds his life and death tales as a surgeon. He tries to save every one. Some die on him. He’s still so sorry. If he could turn the clock back. They didn’t know each other then. Just ships passing in a dying man’s night. They don’t talk about that anymore. It’s a wound that’s closing slowly. Time heals. In the end, there’s just a scar. It’s always there, though.

I am drifting away. Where there was a friends and family room, now there is darkness followed by blinding light. I can feel my head being licked. My eyes being licked. Everything feels different. Strange. I have no thoughts other than “being”. It’s like being reset. I have been. 

I can vaguely remember my other mum. The last time I saw her she was surrounded by puppies. A woman had called looking to adopt one. I had been singled out and presented to her. She had held me up to her face, my legs dangling in the air. For a moment, there was the most curious feeling of déjà vu. She had smiled and said that she had fallen in love. And so Jade took me home and we were united once more. Not that she knew who I had been once. I guess that bond remained. We had been married for a couple of years until the heart attack came long. Life can be a game of chance. It was Trevor that had tried to save me.

Out here in the country, light pollution is not as bad as in towns and cities. The night sky is a sheet of ebony punctured by a myriad of stars. We are all looking up at the Heavens, our breath visible in the air as it’s so cold. A blanket of snow has fallen. The ground shows a trail of footprints tracking our route from the house. A shooting star blazes across the horizon. Trevor looks at Jade and suggests she makes a wish. She closes her eyes for a moment. When she opens them again she looks sad. There’s a tear in her eye. He looks concerned. She puts her head on his shoulder. I think I know what she’s wished for. Christmas is a time for miracles. Maybe I will awake a man again in the morning. I make my own wish.

****

There’s nothing quite like Christmas Day morning. Jade is in the kitchen wearing a grey, dressing gown and slippers. She’s fixing breakfast. Eggs, bacon, sausage and tomato. Trevor is sitting at the table sipping orange juice from a glass. There are wrapped presents under the Christmas tree. They eat and meander into the lounge afterwards. She is leaning across from a chair to hold his hands in hers. He is seated on the sofa looking at her with a quizzical expression. She looks solemn. She tells him she has some news. We all hold our breath. He is going to be a father.  Seconds pass so slowly. It seems my wish came true, after all. I want Jade to be happy like we were once. If that means being with another then so be it. I can deal with it after all.

The patio door is slightly ajar from an earlier sojourn of Jade’s. Wedging myself in the gap, I wriggle until it opens enough to let me through. Nobody sees me. They are still embracing and talking excitedly about the future.  I slope into the garden. There’s a gap in the bushes at the bottom that I have escaped through many times. As selfless as I feel, I have no desire to see any more. It’s time to make my way out into the world. Unfettered.

I can hear robins singing as I approach the end of the garden. There is still snow on the ground. Animal tracks on the hills beyond give away the presence of various inhabitants, among them foxes. I can see the gap I normally squeeze through. I know Jade will be upset by my leaving but it’s for the best. She will get over it. She has Trevor and happier times to look forward to.  I duck my head, ready to manoeuvre my way through the tangle of brush. As I do so, a grey shape blocks my path. Surprised, I look up. It’s my nemesis – Petra. The Siamese is arching her back, making herself look as big as possible, fur standing on end like she’s had an electric shock. Yellow eyes with dark pupils glare at me. I stare back and hear a voice calling me. I turn around to see Jade arm in arm with Trevor standing outside on cold flagstones covered in slush. They are both smiling and looking right at me. Jade is calling my name.  It seems fate has decreed that it’s not time for me to leave after all. An extended family awaits. I sidle back towards the house thinking of ways to get Petra back. I’m sure I can hear her muttering “Merry Christmas” under her feline breath. I could be imagining it.

Image free to use at: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Labrador_Retriever#/media/File:Afra_013.jpg