Christmas Short story.

The following is Hayter’s traditional Christmas short story. He assures us that no animals were injured during the writing of this account. And to his knowledge, this is pure fiction.

Hayter article for December 22, 2019

A Little Dizzy Christmas

            Christmas is right around the corner in Little Dizzy, Texas, a town of 846 located just south of Red Deer Creek and north of no place you’d ever care to be.

The town owes its existence to a pioneer by the name of Alan (Dizzy) Little, whose wagon broke down back in 1848, just as he was crossing the creek. The town’s slogan was derived from something Mr. Little said when his axle broke. “It’ll do.” His exact words were “This dang sure ain’t where I hoped to be, but it’ll do.”

            When the town was established back in 1872, the townsfolk decided to name it after the old pioneer, only they insisted on putting his nickname last. They just hated to miss an opportunity to make good use of a cool word like “Dizzy.”

            The town has a grocery store, gas station with a laundromat and a bait shop with a bowling alley. James Gifford has four bowling lanes. It’s the largest bowling alley in a 150 mile radius. Religiously speaking, Li’l Dizzy has a Baptist Church, Methodist Church and The Third Church. There is also a one room school house, where grades one through six are taught. Those in Junior High and High School get to take an hour and a half bus ride to Pampa.

            Of course, school is out for the holidays, and there will be big goings-on in Dizzy this Christmas Eve. The Local DJ can tell you all about it. -- “That was Loretta Gumpner singing, “I’m too sober to kiss you now.” That song always brings a tear, doesn’t it?”

“Once again, you’re listening to Lynn Sampson here on KOKO. I’d tell you the time, but I lost my watch. Santa, if you can hear me -- Lynn-Needs-A-Watch-for-Christmas!

“Okay, tomorrow is the big parade. We’ve got three floats this year. A Methodist float, a Dizzy Elementary float and RJ Gifford promises to go with a “Bowling Alley” theme this year with his float. As you recall, when the wind hit RJ’s Bait Shop float last year, it pretty much knocked everybody right out of the spirit.

“This year, our 10 member marching band from Pampa High will be the key entertainment for the parade. We’ll have a big bass drum, clarinet, cymbals and 7 dancing flag girls. I tell you, our Little Dizzy flag girls are doing this town proud. Speaking of which, Frank will get to take off the bandage from his right eye on February 18^th. I tell you, when that wind picked up those six flags last year, we were lucky to get off with just the one injury. Oh, I managed to get my hands on the Amarillo paper last Wednesday and we’re only s’posed to get only 17 mile an hour wind gusts this year. Let’s pray that’s the case.

“Also, the Third Church’s choir will be leading us in caroling tomorrow evenin’. We’re to gather at the Post Office flag pole. We’ll just stay and sing at the pole ‘cause there ain’t no place else to go… which happens to be the title of another song by Loretta Gumpner.

“Now for the news, and I’m afraid it’s sad. Toby is still at the cemetery. It’s been eight days since we buried Pete Bridges, and his loyal dog still refuses to leave the gravesite. By the way, has anyone figured out what breed that dog is? I’m leaning towards a border collie with some lab in him. Maybe a touch of shepherd, too. Nice dog, though. Too old to chase cars and too heartbroken to bark. If he’s still there after Christmas, our pet catcher, Maxine, will have to physically remove him. If that gal can’t move Toby, he’s anchored. You might as well paint him.

Oh, and please remember that the pot-luck theme tomorrow is fried.”

All right, let’s turn off the radio and head over to Dizzy Cemetery. That’s where the Little family rests, as well as most of those who died around here over the past 140 years… Pete being the last inductee.

That small boy over by a freshly dug grave is Caleb. Amber Harper, the boy’s mother died in a freak car accident last October. Caleb is now the foster child of Ray and Susan Alcott. The Alcotts live in the yellow house just the other side of the cemetery. Amber was Ray’s friend in college, and when Caleb was born, she asked Ray to be the boy’s godfather. It had been five years since Ray had seen either one of them, but he hurried to Tulsa to get 9 year-old Caleb. The state let him keep Caleb on a foster parent basis until an adoption could be finalized.

That’s Ray walking towards the gate to check on Caleb. Let’s eavesdrop, what say? -- “Caleb, you’re going to freeze to death out here, son. Let’s go in now. You can visit Toby tomorrow morning.”

“Mr. Ray,” Caleb said, “Please don’t make me go in. Toby needs just a little more time to get to know me. He’ll follow me home when he’s ready. -- Oh, I forgot. Can he be my dog?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, son. Now, I’m going to go home to get enough warm gear for the three of us. I’ll get Susan to make a thermos of cocoa, too.”

“Mr. Ray, I think it’s best that just me stays with Toby. He’s only used to me. I managed to get him to drink some water yesterday, and maybe tomorrow I can get him to eat something.”

“Okay, son, I’ll just get stuff for the two of you. By the way, I’m not going to press, but it will be so special when you feel good enough to call me “Daddy”. The boy nodded and then turned his attention to the dog.

Caleb stayed with Toby all night. He spread out the sleeping bag so he and Toby could both lie on top of it. He used the blankets for cover. Caleb fell asleep shortly after Toby dozed off. Ray didn’t get much sleep at all. It could’ve been because of the thermos of coffee he nursed all night. That and his campsite. He didn’t want Caleb to know that he would be watching over him all night, so he set his sleeping bag atop a patch of gravel just this side of the cemetery gate.

            When Caleb woke up that morning, Toby was already awake, lying with his head propped on the boy’s chest. Truth be known, the dog was also keeping an eye on the boy. Caleb suddenly heard his name called, turned and saw Mr. Ray standing by the gate motioning for him to come home. He didn’t mind so much at the moment, because he really had to pee. So, he patted Toby’s head and explained that he would be right back. As he began to walk toward the gate, Toby was with him every step of the way.

            Ray had purchased some dogfood, in the hope that Caleb might eventually coax Toby away from the cemetery. Turns out, the only coaxing the dog needed was for the boy to try to walk away without him. The dog didn’t gorge on the dogfood, but he did empty a medium-sized Tupperware container.  

            Ray waited until he heard the thumping sound of the bass drum before making the drive to town. Caleb refused to sit up front with Susan and Ray. He insisted on riding in the bed of the pickup with Toby. Ray timed his arrival perfectly. Just before the band could turn onto Main Street, he pulled his truck in front of them. He then walked to the back of the truck to talk to an astonished Caleb. “What are we doing, Mr. Ray? You’re blocking the parade.” Caleb said.

            Ray said, “I know, but I think you and your friend should be at the head of the parade. Now I know that sounds scary to you, but I hope you’ll do it for me. More than me, I hope you’ll do it for Little Dizzy. This town needs a little joy right now, and you and Toby can sure give them some.”

Caleb shut his eyes real tight. He stayed like that for a few seconds. Then he opened his eyes, rubbed on Toby’s neck and looked at Mr. Ray. “Okay, Daddy,” he said. “We’ll do it.”

As the Amarillo-Globe News had predicted, the wind gusts were a mild 17 mph. Even at that, one of the flags ended up flying across the street and putting a major scrape on Myra Cumming’s Chevy Suburban. Fortunately, nobody was standing between the flying flag and Big ‘un. -- Myra was one of those in Little Dizzy who chose to name her vehicle. -- Yes, it is odd.

Everything just seemed to roll along in greased grooves on that day in Little Dizzy. The townsfolk cheered when they saw Caleb and Toby leading the parade. There weren’t many dry eyes in the crowd. Everyone had pretty much expected Toby to just grieve to death. 

Caleb didn’t completely understand why the town cared so much about Toby. In fact, he now worried that an important person in town might decide to take Toby from him. Well, Lynn Sampson of KOKO put the kibosh on that. He had a table set up with his microphone and speakers. During his interview with Caleb, he asked the boy how he managed to get Toby to leave the gravesite. Caleb said, “He just needed somebody to be with. Somebody who knew what it felt like to lose a friend. Dogs are just that way.”

Right before Lynn was prepared to end the interview and announce the winning float, Caleb, waved his hand and asked if he could say something. -- “Of course, you can! What is it, little buddy?”

Caleb said, “Mr. Sampson, do you think the town will let me keep Toby?”

The salty old DJ laughed and then shouted into the microphone. “Caleb here wants to know if he can keep Toby. What do we tell him?” The cheer from the townsfolk was so loud it could be heard 15 miles away at Junior Sapp’s house. Junior had to stay home because of “flu-like symptoms.” To be precise, he was too afraid to distance himself from a toilet.

“Everything fried” was the main dish at the big feed that was held over at Dizzy Elementary. The kids had the place well decorated. Oh, and the kiddos managed to win the trophy for the best float. They were not to be denied this year. 

It was the best Christmas Parade that Little Dizzy ever had. No one had been seriously hurt; there was a great feed afterward, and there was not a single inebriated person at the caroling this year. -- Of course, the most cherished part of all was the realization that a small boy and his new friend had found a new home… as well as a reason to be. -- It’ll do. It’ll do just fine.

Merry Christmas from Mark and Kay!

end

It’s too late to order Mark’s “Christmas Storybook Stories” in time for Christmas, but let Hayter know and he’ll get you one or more books from his stash.  hayter.mark@gmail.com