Short Story: Paw Prints In The Snow

Short Story: Paw Prints In The Snow

Holly and her family moved into their new house, much closer to where her father worked, the Saturday before Christmas.

Although she hadn't wanted to leave her classmates, Holly had put on a brave face - after all she still had her best friend Tippy with her.

As the men struggled with furniture and Holly's mother and father brought in boxes of china, Tippy ran around, exploring his new surroundings, getting under everyone's feet.

'Let's put him outside for a while' Holly's father said, having tripped over the little dog for the umpteenth time.

Holly opened the back door and went into the garden. She found an old ball, covered in damp leaves and threw it for Tippy, who brought it back for her to throw again, never tiring of the game. Holly did, though. She was also very cold, so she went inside and her mother, having now found the kettle, made everyone a hot drink.

Half an hour later, having warmed up, the house full of furniture and empty of the removal men, Holly went to let Tippy back in. Her eyes immediately saw the gap in the fence. Tippy was nowhere to be seen.

'Mum, dad, Tippy's gone.' She added with a trembling voice. 'He's run away.'

Holly's mother and father searched the streets, busy with Christmas shoppers. It was starting to get dark.

'He won't know his way home' Holly's mum whispered to her husband, gripping his hand in panic. 'What do we do?'

Holly's father jumped into his car. To his dismay, on the passenger seat was a small bag. In it was the tag he had got engraved with their name and new address. He had meant to put it on Tippy's collar, but had been too busy to get round to it.

He drove to the police station who contacted the nearby dog shelter, but they were unable to help him. He returned empty handed and with a heavy heart.

The next day was Christmas Eve. Holly decorated the tree, although her eyes were blurred with tears. Her mother prepared the vegetables for dinner the next day, quietly alone with her thoughts, remembering when, two years ago, Tippy had entered their lives, a Christmas present for their little girl. Holly's dad chopped wood for the fire, trying to keep himself busy.

Holly hung up her stocking and went to bed. Just past midnight she awoke, got up and looked out of the window. It was as light as day, a thick coating of snow lay on the ground. Ignoring her full stocking, she tiptoed downstairs and opened the back door. There were marks in the snow coming from the fence; she saw they were paw prints. She followed them to a small shed with a broken door. Tippy was asleep on an old sack. He opened his eyes and wagged his tail madly.

They ran upstairs, she with soaking slippers, he with wet paws - Christmas had begun.