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A Christmas Gift

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  • Shay
    A dear friend Christy shared this with me and wanted to pass it along for everyone here. Love and Blessings, Shay A CHRISTMAS GIFT by Bethany Brake I am lying
    Message 1 of 1 , Dec 2, 2004
        A dear friend Christy shared this with me and wanted to pass it along for everyone here.
      Love and Blessings, Shay
      by Bethany Brake

            I am lying on the couch, curled up under a green fleece blanket.
      The house is quiet, everyone else has gone out.
            Only a few days after Christmas, my family seems to still be in
      the Christmas spirit, even though I am not.  I am feeling blue,
      fighting depression again after finally beginning to feel better.  My
      disability has flared, and I am feeling sorry for myself, feeling
      that things might not ever get better.
            Lying there alone, I can think only of the loved ones who are no
      longer with us to spend the holidays.  Though my grandmother passed
      away more than two years ago, my heart still aches every time I think
      of her, and the holiday season just makes it that much worse.
            I sigh and turn over, burying myself deeper under the blanket.
      My service dog rises from where he's been lying next to the couch and
      comes over to look at me.  He sticks his wet nose in my face, and I
      groan and shove him away.
            "Get out of here, Chester.  Don't bug me."
            He stares at me for a minute, and then walks away, padding into
      the kitchen, his toenails making ticking sounds against the hardwood
      floors.  I pull the blanket over my head and, in the warm darkness,
      begin to doze off.
            Just as I am totally relaxed, something hard bonks me on the
      head.  I pull back the blanket, sputtering in surprise.  Chester is
      standing there, staring at me, his tail wagging.  He picks his tennis
      ball up from the floor where it has landed after rolling off my head,
      and drops it under my nose.  Then for good measure gives me a nice
      wet nose-nudge on the forehead.  I glare at him and pull the blanket
      back over my head.
            I hear his footsteps walking away again, and settle back in to
      take a nap.  Moments later, something else hits me over the head.
      With a curse, I fling back the blanket and sit up, ready to yell.
            Chester stands there, his tail wagging furiously, his big
      Christmas rawhide bone in his mouth, other little rawhides and toys
      clustered around his feet.  He drops the big rawhide in my lap, then
      picks up a toy and flings it at me.  I just sit there with my mouth
      open, completely unable to say anything, my anger fading as he dances
      in front of me, asking to play, handing me all his toys, giving up
      the rawhide that he adores so that I'll be happy.
            I hand his rawhide back to him, but he prances over and drops it
      in my lap again, giving me a swift lick before bouncing away.  He
      pauses a few feet away, staring at me hopefully.  He looks so goofy
      that I begin to smile, and he prances around happily, and before long
      I am laughing out loud.
            He jumps up on the couch and puts his head in my lap, rolling
      over for a belly-scratching, wiggling like a puppy.  I hug him close,
      my precious boy, a lump forming in my throat.  He's willing to give
      his most prized possessions to me just to make me smile, and right
      then and there I realize how incredibly lucky I am.  More than just a
      dog, more even than a service dog, he is a true friend.
            He licks my face, and suddenly things don't seem so dark.  His
      simple gifts of love mean more to me than anything else that I've
      ever received, and somehow I begin to feel that as long as he is with
      me, things will be all right.


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