Santa's Puppy Page 3

  His father looked up and nodded. “Thanks, son.”

  “Try not to make too much of a mess in the bathtub,” Mom added.

  “Okay.” Chris held Peppermint Bark tightly, hurrying toward the stairs before his parents could change their minds.

  The furry pup snuggled against him, breathing peppermint and chocolate into his face. “Thanks, Chris.”

  “You’re welcome,” Chris whispered, shooting a glance over his shoulder to make sure Holly wasn’t listening.

  Upstairs, Chris filled the tub with warm water. He added some flower-scented bubbles, even though they were Holly’s and she’d probably be mad.

  “Okay, hop in,” he told the little dog. “I’ll scrub the soot off you.”

  “Thanks.” Peppermint Bark jumped into the tub with a splash. The water darkened immediately as the soot started coming off. “It’s nice and warm—just the same temperature Mrs. Claus always makes my baths.”

  Chris blinked. “Mrs. Claus?” he echoed. “Is that your owner?”

  Peppermint Bark shook his head to get a soap bubble off his nose, which made his ears flap. “Well, technically I’m Santa’s puppy,” he said. “But Mrs. Claus is his wife, so . . .”

  “Hold on a sec.” Chris sat back on his heels, forgetting all about scrubbing. “Santa? As in, Santa Claus? White beard, red suit?”

  “That’s the guy.” The little dog—more white than soot-colored by now—turned his tail toward Chris. “Could you scratch my backside? It’s a little itchy—I think I got extra dirty back there.”

  Chris obeyed, his head spinning with what Peppermint Bark had just told him. “Santa Claus . . .” he murmured. “You’re Santa’s puppy! No wonder you can talk!”

  The dog turned to face him again. “Yeah, what’s up with that?” he said. “Your family acted like they didn’t hear anything I said.” He tilted his head, peering at Chris quizzically. “And now that I think about it, you acted like you’d never heard a dog talk before.”

  “That’s because dogs don’t talk,” Chris replied. “At least not any that I ever met before.”

  “Oh.” Peppermint Bark thought about that for a second. “Maybe it’s a North Pole thing. Santa says lots of stuff is different up there than it is here. Like, we don’t have cars or the flu or mosquitoes. And we do have elves, and flying reindeer . . .”

  “Yeah.” Chris smiled. “Definitely different.”

  “Okay. But that still doesn’t explain why your family can’t hear me,” Peppermint Bark went on. “Santa says anyone with enough Christmas spirit can see him and the reindeer if that person looks at just the right time. It probably works the same for hearing me talk, since that’s just another part of Christmas magic.”

  “That’s probably it, then.” Chris’s shoulders slumped. “Holly doesn’t have much Christmas spirit these days. And my parents are both pretty busy—maybe they don’t either.”

  “Wow.” Peppermint Bark’s eyes widened. “That’s so sad! Maybe I can help.”

  Chris brightened. Did Peppermint Bark really think he could help the Kerstmans regain their Christmas spirit?

  Why not? Chris told himself. He’s Santa’s puppy, after all . . .

  Peppermint Bark ducked his head under the water and came up blowing bubbles. “This is fun!” he said. “At first I was really scared when I got left behind. But the rest of the world is super interesting! I found out there’s no snow here, and chimneys are really dark, and people sing a lot less than elves do . . .” He wagged his tail, sending more soap bubbles flying.

  “Wait—you were left behind?” Chris grabbed a towel to mop up the mess the bubbles were leaving on the floor. “What do you mean?”

  “That’s why I’m here.” Peppermint Bark looked up. “See, I’m not technically allowed to ride along with Santa on his Christmas deliveries. Nobody rides with him—it’s just him and the reindeer. Always been that way.”

  “So what happened?” Chris asked.

  Peppermint Bark dipped his head, looking sheepish. “I sort of . . . um . . . stowed away. And when Santa stopped here, I got out of the sleigh to look around, and, well . . .”

  “He left without you.” Chris grabbed another fresh towel. “I think you’re pretty clean—come on out and dry off.”

  “Okay.” Peppermint Bark hopped out of the tub . . . and shook himself, sending water and bubbles everywhere!

  “Oh no!” Chris yelped, throwing the towel over the little dog.

  But it was too late. The floor was dotted with puddles. Streaks of foamy soap bubbles dripped down the mirror. Even the curtains had little damp spots.

  Peppermint Bark peeked out from under the towel. “Sorry, Chris,” he said meekly. “Did I mess up again?”

  “No, it’s okay,” Chris said quickly. “You didn’t mess up. But here—I’ll finish drying you with the towel, okay?”

  “Thanks, Chris.”

  Chris rubbed the little dog dry. It was pretty steamy in the bathroom, but that wasn’t the only reason Chris suddenly felt warm all over. He could hardly believe Santa’s puppy was right here in his house, talking to him. Already feeling like a new friend.

  “There! You’re pretty dry,” Chris said after a moment. He tossed the towel into the hamper and smiled at Peppermint Bark. The damp little dog gazed back at him happily. His pink tongue lolled out of his mouth, and his big brown eyes sparkled like twinkling Christmas lights . . .

  “Chris!” Mom’s voice floated up from downstairs. “Is that dog clean yet? Because we need to talk.”

  5

  Who’ll Be Home for Christmas?

  When Chris and Peppermint Bark got downstairs, the others were sitting in the living room—Mom and Dad on the sofa, and Holly in her favorite overstuffed chair. Someone had plugged in the Christmas tree, and it glimmered and glowed in front of the bay window.

  “Great tree!” Peppermint Bark barked.

  “Thanks,” Chris whispered. But he was distracted. Mom and Dad had serious looks on their faces.

  He glanced at his sister for a hint at what was up. But Holly wasn’t paying attention. She was staring at the piles of gifts under the tree. Suddenly she leaned over and grabbed a small silver-and-red present.

  “Is this it?” she demanded eagerly. “Did you guys get me the necklace?”

  “Holly, hush,” Mom said. “We’ll get to the gifts in a moment. First we need to figure out what to do with the dog.” Her gaze wandered to Peppermint Bark. “At least he’s clean now . . .”

  “What do you mean, what to do with him?” Chris glanced down at Peppermint Bark, who was still staring happily at the tree.

  Mom and Dad traded a look. “You know he can’t stay here, son,” Dad said. “With my allergies . . .”

  “Okay, yeah, I know.” Chris’s heart sank. They couldn’t be talking about sending Peppermint Bark away already! He’d just arrived! “But we can try to, um, find his owner, right?”

  “There’s an animal shelter over in Westfield,” Dad said. “If he’s lost, his owner will probably look for him there.”

  Not if his owner is Santa Claus, Chris thought.

  Holly looked up, finally tuning in to the conversation. “Wait—we’re not driving all the way to Westfield now, are we?” she demanded. “Ivy will be here soon! I told her we’d start opening gifts and stuff around nine.”

  “No, we can’t take him in today,” Mom told her. “The shelter’s closed on Christmas Day—I just checked the website. We’ll have to go tomorrow.”

  For a second Chris was relieved. Peppermint Bark didn’t have to leave yet! And tomorrow was a whole day away. Maybe by then Chris could convince his parents to let the little dog stay longer . . .

  Then he realized what his sister had said. “Ivy?” he said with a frown. “It’s Christmas—can’t you live without her for one day?”

  Holly frowned back. “Don’t you listen to anything I say?” she exclaimed. “Her family doesn’t do Christmas, so I invited her to come over. Mom and Dad said it w
as okay.”

  “The more the merrier,” Dad agreed with a chuckle.

  Chris just shrugged. Now he did remember—but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

  Mom glanced at her watch. “Is it really almost nine already? We’d better get cracking—I need to leave for the hospital by eleven thirty at the latest.” She jumped to her feet. “Get dressed, everyone. Back down here in ten minutes for breakfast.”

  “But can’t we open one present first?” Holly said, still clutching the small package. “Please?”

  “Yeah.” Chris reached for a present with his name on it. “Just one won’t hurt, right?”

  Dad plucked the gift out of his hand. “You sound like my students begging for one more week to finish their term papers,” he said with a wink. “Upstairs. Gifts after clothes and breakfast.”

  Holly rolled her eyes at Chris. He smiled, remembering lots of other Christmases when the two of them had joined forces to convince their parents to let them open a gift or two before breakfast. Maybe the old Holly wasn’t totally gone after all—maybe her Christmas spirit was coming back . . .

  Then she tossed her gift back under the tree. “I guess you’re right,” she told their parents. “Like I said, Ivy will be here soon. We don’t want to scare her off by forcing her to see Dad in his ratty old pajamas, right?”

  “Right,” Chris muttered, his hope fading. “We definitely don’t want that.”

  He stomped upstairs with Peppermint Bark hurrying after him. It was bad enough that Mom and Dad would both be gone for half of Christmas Day. Mom would be at work, of course, and Dad had to set up for tonight’s town festival and parade. He had spent his winter break this year working on the planning committee. Now Chris had to share the short time he had with his parents with dumb old Ivy, too?

  As soon as he and Peppermint Bark were in his room, Chris slammed the door. The puppy jumped at the noise.

  “What’s the matter?” Peppermint Bark asked. “You shouldn’t be in a bad mood—it’s Christmas!”

  “I know,” Chris muttered. “Too bad my annoying sister doesn’t know what that means anymore.”

  He stomped over to grab the sweatshirt he’d left draped on a chair the night before. Peppermint Bark trotted after him.

  “Why do you say that?” the little dog asked curiously. “And hey, who’s Ivy?”

  “She’s my weird sister’s weird best friend,” Chris said. “Her parents grew up in Japan, and they don’t really celebrate Christmas in the same way there. That’s why Holly invited her over.”

  Now he remembered Holly telling them all about it. How Ivy’s parents had moved to the United States just a couple of years before she was born. How they’d always visited relatives back in Japan or taken other vacations during this time of year, since they were both professors at Poinsettia Valley University like Chris’s dad and had time off. How they couldn’t go anywhere this year because Ivy’s mom was busy writing a book, and so Ivy didn’t have anything special to do, and she’d always been interested in learning more about Christmas folklore and traditions and stuff. Somehow, though, it hadn’t really dawned on Chris until now what it meant.

  “Christmas is supposed to be for family!” he blurted out with a scowl.

  Peppermint Bark stood on his hind legs and licked Chris’s hand, sending the scent of peppermint wafting through the air. “Friends can be family too,” the puppy said. “That’s what Santa says. He says we’re all one big North Pole family—him and Mrs. Claus and the elves and the reindeer and me . . .” He looked sad for a second.

  That made Chris forget about his own problems. Somehow, in all the excitement of finding Peppermint Bark, he hadn’t really thought about how the little dog must feel. Lost, far away from home on Christmas . . .

  “Don’t worry,” Chris said. “I’ll help you figure out how to get home.”

  Peppermint Bark brightened immediately. “Really?” he barked. “You’d do that? But you’ve helped me so much already—rescuing me from the chimney, giving me that wonderful bath . . .” He leaped around happily, almost knocking over the Good Sport trophy Chris had won at day camp this past summer. Holly always made fun of that trophy, since she’d won the Most Valuable Player trophy for three different sports at the same camp. But Chris didn’t care what she thought.

  Chris caught the trophy and set it on a higher shelf. “Of course I’ll help you,” he told Peppermint Bark. “You’re my friend. And that makes you family. At least that’s what Santa always says, right?”

  He quickly pulled on his clothes. Then he and Peppermint Bark ran back downstairs.

  When they got there, Ivy was just stepping in through the front door. She carried a small stack of wrapped gifts, and her cheeks were pink from the cold.

  “Welcome, Ivy,” Dad said. “Come on in—can I make you a smoothie, or would you rather have toast and jam? Holly talked me out of making pancakes since we’re short of time this morning.”

  “Yeah.” Holly glanced at Peppermint Bark. “We got a little, um, delayed.”

  “A smoothie sounds great, thanks,” Ivy said politely. Ivy was always polite, at least when adults were around. She didn’t talk to Chris much at all otherwise.

  Peppermint Bark trotted over to the visitor, his tail wagging. Ivy took a step backwards, looking startled.

  “You got a dog?” she said.

  “Not exactly,” Mom said with a chuckle. “More like, this dog got us.”

  Ivy wrinkled her nose, ducking behind Holly. “Sorry, I’m a little sensitive to bad smells,” she said.

  “Bad smells?” Chris protested, insulted on Peppermint Bark’s behalf. “He just had a bath.”

  Ivy shrugged. “Like I said, I’m sensitive.” She tucked a strand of her straight black hair behind one ear. “Maybe you could keep him a little ways away?”

  “Sure, of course.” Holly nudged Peppermint Bark with one foot. “We can lock him in another room or something.”

  “No way!” Chris protested. “Peppermint Bark is part of this family too.” Noticing his parents’ surprised looks, he added, “At least for today.”

  “That’s his name?” Ivy peered around Holly, looking curious. “Peppermint Bark? Cute.”

  “That’s me!” the little dog barked. “Nice to meet you, Ivy.”

  Suddenly Ivy’s eyes went very wide. “Did you—did he just . . .” she stammered uncertainly.

  “What?” Chris demanded. He was suddenly extremely interested in what Ivy was about to say—maybe for the first time ever . . .

  * * *

  Holly was glad that Ivy was finally here. So far, Christmas morning had mostly been a lot of standing around with cold toes, thanks to that scruffy puppy. Sure, he was cute, sort of like a snow-white version of Benji or something, but what was the point of getting attached? Dad’s allergies meant he couldn’t stay, and that was that.

  And it didn’t help that her little brother was acting like even more of a weirdo than usual. How old did that kid have to get before he stopped believing that animals could talk?

  “Just get in here, okay?” Holly said, grabbing Ivy by the arm and dragging her toward the living room before she could finish whatever she was saying. “I’m dying to open gifts! I’m expecting something very special this year . . .” She shot her parents a hopeful look. Had they given her the amazing birthstone necklace she’d asked for? The one that was made of real gold, and that matched Ivy’s except for the color of the stone—purple amethyst for Ivy, blue sapphire for Holly? The one she’d been drooling over all year?

  “Breakfast first, then gifts,” Mom said. “Into the kitchen, everyone.”

  Dad was a pretty good cook, but he could be slow. Holly didn’t have time for that today. “I’ll help cut stuff up,” she offered. “You can help too, Ives.”

  “What?” Ivy was looking over her shoulder at the dog. She blinked and glanced at Holly. “Oh—I mean, sure, I’d love to help.”

  With Holly and Ivy assisting, it didn’t take long for
Dad to make breakfast smoothies for everyone. He even mixed up some chicken soup and peanut butter to make one for Peppermint Bark.

  “Let’s see if this pup knows any tricks,” Dad said, pouring the dog’s smoothie into a bowl. “Sit, Peppermint Bark! If you do, you get a treat!”

  Peppermint Bark barked and sat down. Chris gave him a pat.

  “Good job, buddy,” he said. “Hold on, Dad—I bet I can teach him a better trick. Hey, Peppermint Bark, please fetch me that dishtowel! The one with the Christmas wreaths on it.”

  “Enough already,” Holly complained. She’d already sucked down half her berry banana smoothie, while her brother hadn’t even started his.

  But her eyes widened when the little dog trotted over to the wreath-patterned dishtowel hanging near the sink. He grabbed it in his mouth and brought it back to Chris, tail wagging the whole time.

  “Whoa.” Ivy looked impressed. “That was cool! How’d you know he could do that?”

  Chris smirked in that annoying way he had whenever he thought he was being smarter than everyone else—in other words, most of the time. “Just a lucky guess,” he said as their father set the bowl in front of Peppermint Bark.

  Holly rolled her eyes. She was getting tired of Chris hogging all the attention with that silly dog. Why bother teaching him tricks and acting all lovey-dovey when he’d be leaving tomorrow?

  She sucked down the last few drops of her smoothie. “Finish up, guys,” she said. “Those gifts aren’t going to open themselves!”

  * * *

  Peppermint Bark loved watching the humans perform their Christmas morning rituals. It was all so interesting! Santa had taught him a lot about the various things people did to celebrate the big day—gifts, caroling, Christmas trees, and much more. But Santa had never even mentioned Christmas morning smoothies.

  “You got it for me!” Holly squealed, startling Peppermint Bark out of his thoughts. She dug into the small box she’d just unwrapped. Then she held up something thin and sparkly. “Oh, you guys, I love it! Thank you so much!”