THE GIFT

Do you hear what I hear? Ringing through the sky?
Do you know what I know? In your palace warm mighty king?
Hark!
It's the fuzzy, brown and black ball of fur with white neck hair and white stocking feet.
He needs to go out.
It is a beagle puppy, your beagle puppy o mighty king.
Those were my less than joyous thoughts after Christmas in 2007.
That year our children were so excited about giving their dad the dog he had always wanted. Of course, the gift tag said to Dad AND Mom. They said we needed something to keep us young. They said when they saw the box full of puppies at the gas station when they stopped to get gas they just knew a puppy would be the perfect gift for us.
When we learned the kids had paid a quarter of a thousand dollars for the dog we knew we would have to let him survive.
We named him W. T. Beuford. Beuford moved into a cardboard box next to my side of the bed because the old man can't hear much anymore. That is why on nights when "the crest of the new fallen snow gave a luster of midday to objects below" the early risers and night stalkers of Libby knew I owned a green bathrobe. I straddled the snow berms with my thin robe drawn to my neck while I waited and waited for Beuford to go. Then I could return to the palace warm like the might king who slept through the winter. By spring, Beuford could wait until morning so he moved into the bed and under the covers and we three kings were all warm.
During his teething period, Beuford shredded my slippers from Santa and chewed upon the digital camera, some DVDs and CDs and the zipper in my winter coat. Left in the car during a shopping trip for more doggie treats he chewed through the seatbelts in the back seat.
You could say the dog has been the gift that keeps on giving. My husband keeps the path to the clothesline cleared of those gifts. We have grown accustomed to his ways, including his voice. Hound puppies do not whimper. They are loud and even after his "little surgery" his voice is still shrill. He has become an early warning system that is activated only by his ESP.
"Well, I don't know. Hounds are pretty hard to train, but we'll do what we can with him," the puppy school teacher said. Beuford did well and graduated with honors wearing a cap and gown without losing his dignity but he quickly forgot all he learned.
Beuford celebrated his second Christmas this year. He's a big boy now. Eleven pounds too much said the vet. He can hear a the crinkling of a food wrapper from anywhere in the house and when he tilts his head and gazes at you with those big brown eyes he seems to say, "What ya got? Can I have some? Huh? Huh? He's happy and it shows when he chases the wind with his long ears flapping like wings of bird preparring for lift off or when he is on his back shuffling side to side with a wide toothy grin as he balances a ball between his front paws.
Beuford goes to bed on command now, on the palace kings side, because he knows his job is to keep the old man warm. Now 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 pretty smart. They knew exactly what we needed in our old age. I hope all of you got what you needed for Christmas this year.