A Real Life Christmas

My twelve-year-old Christmas was less than ideal. It was an awakening to a new world: the real world

It all began on Christmas day. I was twelve and as naive and innocent as one could be. This Christmas, like all the others, was a day that I had long awaited. I had started counting down the days a month and a half before while my anticipation for the holiday skyrocketed. It was going to be the best Christmas ever; which was usually the case.

We were calming down from the morning excitement and were now actually using the gifts we had received; which, for me, was a new computer game. A movement through my bedroom window caught my eye. Curious I glanced over and saw across the snow covered ground two husky dogs running on the path behind our house without an owner. They jumped and ran in circles as they lovingly flirted with each other and meandered along an unknown path.

I loved dogs. I had actually grown up around them. Our first dog was a brown golden retriever. She had lived to be about sixteen, or so we guessed, before we decided to end her difficult and painful life. Our second dog overlapped the first by a year. It was this younger and livelier Shiatsu that I obsessed over. She was my friend and, while my two older brothers left to do whatever they did and my two younger sisters picked up their dolls, I would turn to my dog. We had gone on many adventures, just her and I. Together we had discovered the last living dinosaurs, found out where the evil villain had hidden my collection of stuffed animals, and fought off the aliens that wished to capture our world. Even in that moment in which I watched the two husky's play, Ginger sat behind me on our bed.

I had seen dogs wander behind our house before, and like all the times before, I instantly headed out back to capture the huskies and return them to their owners. I left Ginger inside, because this was not a mission for the faint of heart, even though I assumed it would end easily, and possibly with a reward.  The dogs were obviously stronger than I but, like all other dogs they would listen to me. By the time I had reached the gate in our back yard which would lead to the path, only one of the huskies could be seen.

I coaxed him towards our back yard, hoping that I could trap him within our property. He hesitantly followed me with is muscular body heaving his massive weight. To my surprise, I saw my partner in adventure, Ginger, come running up to greet the newcomer into our property. The husky didn't care much for the greeting, instead. With a demon like ferocity, he launched himself at my friend and secured his fangs about her chest. There was snarling, yelping, and calls for help which I must have been throwing out. I saw the presence of evil attack my long time childhood friend.

It was no longer the imaginary battle her and I would face in the comfort of my room, it was a real life war between good and evil. I knew her life was solely relying upon me. No one else could make it to our location to save my partner, which was now being thrashed about within the beast’s mouth. Before I could even register the risks, I plunged my hands into the mouth of the dog. I was not going to let the beast win. I used both hands, and with the strength of a scrawny twelve-year-old fueled by fear, I pulled open the jaws that threatened the life of my dog. She gave several coughs and walked to painfully lay a few feet away.

I no longer cared about any reward or for myself; I cared for my dog’s life. I stood between the hunter and its prey. There was no way the thing was going to get past or through me. I yelled, "Go home! Now!" I pointed sternly. It watched me for a second as if to size me up, it gave one last bark to strike his enemy with fear. I didn't let him have this satisfaction; instead, I stared back at him with a cold hard stare that showed my seriousness. With one last snarl he backed away and left my wounded ally and I to ourselves.

I turned to my rasping dog, I was about to pick her up when she stared at me with a sorrowful and painful expression with her large brown eyes. The gaze seemed to pierce me straight to the soul. It reminded me of our battles before, against the aliens, or whatever other evils we faced, but this was real. It was no longer pretend. The pain, the risk, the battle, the evil, all of it was real. Before I had even known what it meant, I had sacrificed my safety for hers.

After the assault, my dog had three broken ribs and a punctured lung. We spent the remainder of that Christmas day in an emergency vet center, where we would have to leave her for the next three days. She survived, but our relationship was forever changed.