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Angels touch our hearts and our lives in many different ways.
And they bring a special kind of magic that happens at
Christmastime that doesn't happen at any other time of the year.
Sometimes -- instead of perching at the very top -- an angel
resides underneath the Christmas tree where the gaily wrapped
presents patiently wait to be opened on December 25th.
The angel also lays in wait, protecting the precious gifts from
any intruders, cocking his head whenever anyone enters the room.
Having done this now for almost nineteen years, it is a duty
from which he will not shirk. His eyes glint and sparkle from the
Christmas lights reflecting the radiance of his soul and his love for
his family and for his home.
This angel -- a black Chow-Lab mix -- answered to the name of Rex.
He barked when I entered the room, and if a dog can smile, a big
one spread across his muzzle to show his pleasure that I was now at home.
Like Marley, in A Christmas Carol, Rex wore a very long chain
for the first 4 years of his life. He was confined to a ramshackle
old dog house in a backyard, barely protected from the elements. The only time he saw a "family" was when they brought him food and water.
Never was there a kind word. No dog petting. No playing with
dog toys. But somehow, Rex managed to sustain himself by barking at the birds and the squirrels and by watching all of the people walking past the end of the driveway.
Eventually, his "family" moved to Florida, leaving Rex chained
to his existence like a discarded remnant of a previous life. No one
was left to care for him.
My friend Patty called me and pleadingly asked, "Can you
possibly take another dog?"
She knew I would never say no to a homeless dog. I had her
deliver Rex to my vet for an exam and for shots -- something that had never been done. I picked him up from there.
Rex became a part of the gang and even though he was sometimes overwhelmed by the size of the pack, he would always smile at us.
As the years went by, he gradually developed an arthritic limp.
He was still OK on a flat surface, but the back steps were proving to
be too cumbersome. I would pick him up -- carrying him out and then back in -- easing his journey when nature called. But more and more, even the flat surfaces became too much.
As I stood staring at the brightly lit Christmas tree and as I
blinked twice, the memories of Rex welled up in the corners of my
eyes. The shape of the dog -- the angel -- who had lain so silently
beneath the tree, faded.
Rex had passed on and Christmas would be spent without him. His memory remains etched like the frosted-glass Christmas ornament with his name on it -- hanging from the tree bough and etched in my heart forever.
by James Colasanti, Jr.
The dog is a yes-animal, very popular with people who can't afford to keep a yes-man. ~Robertson Davies
AN ANGEL REMEMBERED
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