The Mystery Before Christmas

When I arrived at the shelter for my training session that afternoon, I was introduced to Barkley. Barkley was a new arrival whose elderly owner had been forced to move into an assisted living facility after suffering a stroke. Barkley, I quickly found out, didn’t need me to train him on basic commands, what he needed was for someone to coax him out of the depression he’d fallen into.

“Barkley is a unique situation,” Naomi explained. “He is an older dog who has lived in a quiet home free of children and other animals for his entire life. The man who adopted him as a puppy was already well into his senior years when Barkley came to live with him, and given his reclusive nature, Barkley isn’t used to interacting with anyone other than this one person.”

“So now that his owner is no longer in his life, he is feeling lonely and depressed.”

She nodded. “Exactly. And it will be close to impossible to find someone to adopt a dog who doesn’t respond to the presence of people in any way. What I need you to do is to sit with him and talk to him. Simply spend time with him, so that he gets to know you. I’m hoping that after a while, he will start to respond to your presence. Once that happens, we can expose him to some of the other trainers. I don’t think he’ll ever be a super social dog, but I do hope we can get him to the point where he will at least look at those individuals who come to the shelter looking to adopt a senior dog.”

“Okay,” I agreed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Excellent. You have a peaceful way about you. I think that with some time, Barkley will begin to respond to your presence.”

After Naomi left, I sat down on the floor next to Barkley. The entire time Naomi and I were chatting, he had simply laid on the floor with his head resting on his paws. He hadn’t moved or responded in any way to our presence in the room. I supposed I didn’t blame him. I’d be depressed too if the person I’d always depended on was suddenly stripped from my life.

“So my name is Callie,” I said as a means of introduction. “I guess it is my job to coax you out of your depression, but I just want to say that I get it. I do. I’ve suffered crippling loss in my life as well, and I know how it is when everyone wants you to feel better before you are ready to even start dealing with your loss.” My heart went out to the poor dog. “Grief is a real thing, and it takes as long to process as it takes. I just want you to know that you and I are cool. I’ll sit here and chat with you, but there won’t be any hard feelings if you need more time to really work through this loss.”

I knew the dog was alive because he was breathing, but as far as I could tell, he hadn’t moved an inch since I’d been introduced to him.

“So I’m dealing with an interesting situation of my own,” I continued. I figured the dog wouldn’t really care what I talked about, so I might as well use the time to process my own situation. “I am trying to work my way into a full-time job at the local newspaper, a job I never even knew I wanted until a few weeks ago, but want desperately now. Anyway, my boss, a really nice guy named Dex, has assigned me to do a series of articles about Secret Santa. The series is going to be reprinted in the Post, which is a huge opportunity for both me and the Foxtail News. Anyway, Dex wanted to put another reporter with more experience on the assignment, but the idea was mine in the first place, so I talked him into letting me run with it. The thing is, even though I promised the guy I would be able to meet all the requirements of the series, including naming Secret Santa, I am beginning to have doubts on so many levels. Not only am I beginning to doubt my ability to actually identify this guy, but even if I can figure out who he or she is, I am conflicted about making the identity of Secret Santa public.”

I took a breath and then continued. “I was just chatting with Aunt Gracie’s cat about the situation this morning, and he seemed to think I needed to really dig down and decide where my priorities lie. To be honest, I’ve been going over that in my head all day. The thing is that I just don’t know what I should feel, and I certainly can’t figure out how I do feel. On the one hand, if I am able to identify Secret Santa, which is the task I have agreed to, I know I have a responsibility to Dex to write the story I promised him I could and would write, and I know he is depending on me. On the other hand, I do feel like the guy who has been doing all these amazing things has a right to his anonymity.”

Barkley still hadn’t moved or responded in any way, but my job was just to talk to him and get him used to me, so I continued.

“Of course, worrying about whether to reveal the identity of Secret Santa may be premature since I really have no idea who he or she is. Do you know I actually rode a horse for the first time in my life just to get an interview with Carolyn Worthington? Now, if that isn’t dedication to my article, I don’t know what is. The horse was huge. I was sure I was going to fall and break my neck, but I didn’t.” I paused. “In fact, I actually had fun once I started to relax a bit. Not that I am looking to repeat the experience anytime soon, but I guess my fear of horses is one of those fears that was based on nothing more than the unknown.”