Column: The gift becomes part of family
Do you hear what I hear, ringing through the sky?
Do you know what I know, in your palace warm mighty king?
Your dog needs to go out!
He is a fuzzy, brown, black and white ball of fur. His name is W. T. Beuford and he is the beagle puppy my husband always wanted.
It was Christmas 2007 and the children saw a box of puppies for sale when they went to the gas station. There he was. The dog dad has always wanted.
When we learned the children had paid one-fourth of a thousand dollars for the puppy we knew we would have to let him live.
We named him W. T. Beuford and placed him in a cardboard box by our bed, my side because the old man cannot hear much anymore. That is why the early risers and night stalkers of Libby know what color my bathrobe is. I stood on precarious snow berms with the thin green robe pulled close around my neck; waiting, and waiting and waiting for the dog to go.
During Beuford’s teething period he destroyed my slippers, zippers in my coat, my DVDs and my CDs. When the old man left the dog alone in his truck, he chewed through his seatbelts. You might say the dog has been the gift that keeps on giving, but the old man clears away the gifts in the backyard so I can safely walk to the clothesline.
We’ve grown used to his voice but the neighbors are not impressed with our very own early warning system. Even the “little surgery” that Beuford had did not deepen his voice much.
“Well I don’t know. Hounds are pretty hard to train, but we’ll do what we can,” said the puppy-school teacher.
Actually, Beuford did graduate from obedience school, and he did tolerate the homemade cap and gown he had to wear during the graduation ceremony and then he promptly forgot all he had learned.
Beuford celebrated his second Christmas this year. He’s a big boy now. Too big, says his doctor. He can hear the crinkling of a candy wrapper from any room in the house and appears at our feet with his head cocked to one side and with his beautiful brown eyes looking intently into ours as he seems to be saying, “What ya got? Can I have some? Huh? Huh? And yes, he can have a little bit too.
He seems to be happy and shows it when he chases the wind until his long ears seem ready for lift-off, or when he sprawls on his back, shifting from side to side with a wide toothy grin as he tries to balance his ball between his front feet. He knows when we are sad and his play stops when he takes time to lick a tear off our cheek.
He sleeps on the old man’s side of the bed now because he knows it is his job to keep the king warm, but these days it is Beuford who startles awake and asks, “do you hear what I hear” when the old man tries to sneak a cookie from the jar in the dark of winter.
Our kids are smart. They knew exactly what we needed in our old age.
I hope all of you got exactly what you needed for Christmas this year.
(Carol Holoboff is a former Libby resident who now writes her column from Great Falls).