'Twas the Chihuahua Before Christmas (3 page)

Back inside the workshop, Ivan closed the
door behind them, then took a pair of fleece-lined leather gloves
from his coat pockets and put them on. He knelt on the floor and
reached inside the hole. A growling squeal came from inside.

“That sounds like a raccoon!” Charlotte said.
“Be careful!”

Ivan grasped the ragged edge of the drywall
and jerked a piece free. “We will need a box and a blanket.”

Charlotte found a box of ribbon and dumped
the spools onto the floor. A bolt of quilted cotton lay on the work
table. She quickly cut off a length and put it in the bottom of the
box. Behind her, she heard the unmistakable sound of a canine yelp.
She turned in time to see Ivan lift a small, filthy form from the
enlarged hole. “You don’t mean it! A
Chihuahua?”

The dog in Ivan’s hands writhed and snarled,
biting at his gloved fingers with bloodied lips. Its long fur,
matted with dirt, was light in color, but
what
color was
impossible to tell. Mud caked its delicate front paws.

Charlotte walked slowly over and put the box
on the floor. “It’s okay,” she crooned. “Everything’s going to be
all right.”

Ivan put the Chihuahua in the box, gripping
the scruff of its neck to keep it there. With his other hand, he
reached back into the hole, felt around, and brought out a small,
slick-looking form. It moved feebly in his grip.

“A puppy!” Charlotte breathed.

Ivan put the puppy in the box. The mother
curled protectively around it, wedging herself into a corner in the
process.

Ivan looked up. “It would be best to cover
the box.”

Charlotte grabbed a remnant of black silk
from the table and draped it over the top.

Ivan slowly withdrew his hand from beneath
the fabric. The snarling stopped.

Charlotte found a roll of packing tape and
pulled off a length, wincing at the noise it made. “Is that the
only puppy?” She taped the fabric to the cardboard sides of the
box.

Ivan felt inside the hole. “No more puppies,
but there is something.” With a rustle of fabric on plaster, he
dragged out a grubby silver item.

“Lila’s parka!” Charlotte said.

Ivan felt around some more and came out with
two bits of green and red material – also damp and stained.

“And her elf costume!” Charlotte broke into
laughter, then covered her mouth. “The mother must have chewed
through the wall and dragged whatever soft stuff she could find
into the hole, to make a bed. But why didn’t she just come to the
house?”

Ivan stood. “She bit at my hands, although
she was too afraid to use force. I think she has not been treated
well by people.”

“Poor thing,” Charlotte murmured. She stared
down at the covered box. “Sheila Canter, Lila’s vet, has two
grandkids in town. I’ll bet anything she’s bringing them to meet
Santa tonight. I’ll ask her to take a look at these dogs.”

Charlotte had Ivan look for bottles and jars
to fill with hot water, to keep the mother and puppy warm inside
her car. While he did that, she searched the workshop for white
fake fur to make Santa’s sleeve cuffs and beard. Fake fur was not a
big part of most Chihuahuas’ wardrobes, but she finally found a
sample from one of her vendors. The silky white fur was shot
through with strands of holographic tinsel. Charlotte regarded it
doubtfully. “I guess it’ll work.”

It was a quarter to six when they arrived at
the Manitou Springs Volunteer Fire Department. Ivan went over to
look at the antique truck as Charlotte unclipped Lila’s lead from
the dog seat. She turned with Lila in her arms and found Shermont
Lester standing behind her, dressed in Victorian finery.

Shermont gave her a panicky look. “What the
hell is Ivan got up as?”

“Santa,” Charlotte said shortly. “And you’re
lucky to have him, after what we’ve been through today. I had to
give up on the Mrs. Claus thing entirely.”

They went over to the truck, where Shermont
shook Ivan’s hand and introduced him to the other passengers, who
also wore reproduction Victorian clothes. “We appreciate you
filling in at the last minute, Ivan.” He pointed to the running
board of the fire engine. “If you’ll step there and climb up, we’ll
get going.”

Charlotte waited until Ivan was seated, then
handed Lila up, dressed in the blue and white outfit.

“I thought Lila was going to be an elf,”
Shermont said.

“Something happened to the elf costume, so
Lila is a snowflake,” Charlotte said.

“But she’s a black dog!”

“Don’t be racist, Shermont.” Charlotte waved
at Ivan and Lila. “Break a leg!”

Ivan scowled at her. “No.”

“It’s just a theatre expression.” She gave up
trying to explain as Shermont closed the fire truck door.

“Gotta go,” he said, trotting around the
truck to get in on the other side.

She started to leave, then turned around.
“Could you not ring the bell until you get a little bit away from
the station? I have a rather delicate passenger in my car.”

A large white tent sat beneath the town clock
on Manitou Avenue. Bundled-up parents and children stood inside it
and spilled onto the sidewalk, drinking hot cider and basking in
the warmth of propane heaters. When the fire truck pulled up,
mothers and fathers pointed to it and whispered, “Here comes
Santa!” to their youngsters.

The door opened, and Ivan stepped down from
the truck, Lila in one arm. Multicolored light shot from the
glittery strands in his beard and the cuffs of his coat.

“Why is he all sparkly?” a small boy asked in
a piercing voice.

His older sister gave him a pitying look.
“That’s how you know he’s magic
.
”

“But what’s that he’s holding?” her brother
persisted.

“One of the animals that visited baby Jesus,”
his sister said. “That must be the black sheep.”

Ivan regarded the assembled tots from beneath
lowered brows. Then he placed a hand on his hip and leaned back.
“Ha, ho, ho!” he bellowed. “Merry Christmas!”

An impromptu cheer rose from the crowd.

Charlotte led Sheila Canter, the vet, to her
car.

“I thought you were supposed to be Mrs.
Claus,” Sheila said.

“I kind of ran out of time, what with one
thing and another.” Charlotte opened the back door of the car and
carefully lifted the fabric that covered the cardboard box. A growl
came from inside as she did, but it wasn’t very menacing.

The mother Chihuahua blinked sleepily up at
her, surrounded by towel-wrapped bottles of warm water. Two white
pups nursed at her belly.

Charlotte stepped aside so Sheila could take
her place. “As soon as she had that second pup, she ate half a can
of dog food and drank almost a cup of water.”

“What a good dog,” Sheila cooed. “You say she
bit at Ivan’s hands?”

Charlotte nodded. “But not hard, and she let
me put food and water in the box without snapping. I wore gloves,
just in case.”

Sheila nodded. “She might have a problem with
men.”

“Ivan will cure her of that if anyone can,”
Charlotte said.

Sheila snapped her fingers above the box, to
get the mother dog to look up. “Her mouth is kind of torn up. Any
idea what that’s from?”

“We think it’s from chewing through the
drywall,” Charlotte said. “I’ll make an appointment to bring her in
as soon as I can.”

“If you can clean it with soap and water,
that would be good. I hesitate to put her on antibiotics, what with
the nursing pups.” Sheila replaced the fabric and straightened,
then closed the car door as gently as she could. “You have my
emergency number.”

“Thanks.” Charlotte smiled. “Have a good
Christmas.”

“You, too.” Sheila raised a hand in farewell
and went to her SUV, where her grandchildren could be seen jumping
up and down in the back seat.

Charlotte returned to the tent. Volunteers
were dismantling the platform for Santa’s throne while the official
photographer snapped pictures of Lila under the Christmas tree.
Ivan and Shermont Lester stood close by, talking and sipping hot
cider. Ivan’s sparkly beard dangled from one ear so he could drink
from his cup unimpeded.

“Best Santa ever,” Shermont said, as
Charlotte joined them.

“Wasn’t he?” Charlotte gave Ivan a proud
look. “What did you say to that obnoxious child who shoved his
sister off the platform? I was never so glad to see a little boy
burst into tears.”

Ivan took a flask from inside his coat and
unscrewed the lid. “I told him to behave, or
Ded Moroz
would
leave him in the woods to freeze to death.”

Shermont choked on a sip of his drink.
“
Ded Moroz?
Isn’t that a rapper?”

“You’re thinking of Mos Def,” Ivan said. “And
he is an actor now. Quite good.” He offered the flask to Shermont,
who waved it away.

The photographer came over, holding Lila.
“She’s gotten a little restless. I think she might have to go to
the bathroom.”

“Oh, thank you,” Charlotte said, taking
Lila.

The photographer smiled at Ivan. “Nice boots,
Santa. See you around.”

Ivan gave a little wave. “Bye-bye.” He tossed
back the contents of his cup and took Lila from Charlotte. “We will
go pee now.”

Shermont watched him walk away. “I hope he
just means the dog.”

“Probably,” Charlotte said.

“I heard you have some unexpected guests.”
Shermont raised his eyebrows. “Are you going to keep them?”

“If it works out.” Charlotte smiled. “Never
look a gift Chihuahua in the mouth, especially on Christmas
Eve.”

Charlotte parked in front of the house. Lila
had fallen asleep under her blanket. “What a good snowflake you
were tonight,” Charlotte said, as she unclipped the leash from the
dog seat.

Lila yawned and stretched before licking
Charlotte’s hand.

Ivan opened the other rear door and lifted
the box with the mother and pups in it. “I will keep them in my
room tonight. It will be easier for Lila if she thinks they are my
dogs.”

“You know best.” Charlotte went up the walk
ahead of him, so she could unlock the front door and push it
open.

As they took off their coats, Charlotte
glanced into the parlor. “We never did decorate the tree, but I’m
so tired, all I want to do is eat something and go to bed. Do you
mind terribly if we decorate it tomorrow?”

Ivan shook his head. “The Russian Orthodox
Christmas does not happen until January 7th. I am going to cook a
steak. Do you want one?”

“Thank you, but that’s a little heavy for me.
I’ll just have some cereal.”

It was still dark when Lila woke Charlotte by
licking her face. “Why are you up so early?” Charlotte murmured,
lifting the covers. As Lila crept underneath and nestled against
her side, Charlotte’s eyes drifted shut.

She woke again a few hours later. Sunlight
poured through the windows, and she could see a strip of brilliant
blue sky from where she lay. She threw back the covers, eliciting a
groan from Lila, who was still asleep. “Merry Christmas, Lila-loo!
Let’s get up and see how our guests are.”

She dressed Lila in a shimmery green frock
with a red bow and gave her two treats. “Because it’s Chrismas,”
she said, as Lila licked her chops.

Charlotte opened one of the drawers in her
antique desk and took out a wrapped package for Ivan. It contained
a pair of leather gloves lined with cashmere, a bottle of cologne
she preferred to the one he normally wore, and a small stack of
cash, tied with a red ribbon. It also had a tag that read,
Good
luck at the casino!

She donned her robe and slippers and they
started downstairs.

Ivan called up to her from the ground floor.
“Put Lila on a leash, please.”

“Lila, come!” Charlotte called.

Lila gave her a confused look, but came back
up the stairs.

Charlotte picked her up. “Sorry, Ivan,” she
called. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Lila’s dress didn’t have a ring for attaching
a lead, so Charlotte swapped it for a harness dress in red, leashed
her, and went downstairs again. She walked into the kitchen, but it
was empty.

“Where are you?” she called.

“In the parlor,” Ivan answered.

Charlotte went to the parlor, Lila trotting
ahead of her on the leash. When she got inside, she stopped. “Oh,
Ivan.”

The twinkling lights of the Christmas tree
sparkled off tinsel and ornaments. Beneath it sat an open cardboard
box. Ivan had cut down the sides and used a felt-tipped pen to make
it look like a sleigh. Three Chihuahua toys from Charlotte’s
collection were tied to the front with ribbon, as though pulling
the sleigh. And inside the box, just visible, were the mother
Chihuahua and her puppies.

Charlotte picked up Lila, who was straining
at her lead, and tiptoed over to look inside. The mother
Chihuahua’s fur was clean and white, and lay about her in
luxuriant, still-damp swathes. She raised her head and yipped when
she saw Lila.

Lila barked back.

“She let you give her a bath?” Charlotte
marveled.

Ivan grinned. “About two hours ago. I let her
sleep while I decorated the tree. Then I took part of my steak,
which I had saved, and chewed each piece before I fed it to her. It
is an old trick. Then I talked to her for a long time.”

“What did you talk about?” Charlotte
asked.

Ivan lifted one shoulder. “My time in the
circus. My son. How cold it is in Russia, and how lucky we are to
be here with you.”

Charlotte stepped forward and wrapped her
free arm around Ivan, while Lila tried to lick him. “We’re lucky to
have you.” After a moment, she stepped back and wiped her eyes.
“Shall I put Lila down so they can meet?”

“One moment.” Ivan went over to the box and
stroked the new dog’s head, then gently gripped the long fur at the
scruff of her neck. “Go ahead.”