Harry was in his bedroom looking out of the window, his breath fogging up the glass. He wiped it with his hand until he could just see through a tiny space. The roof tops were glistening in the frosty night air. The full moon cast eerie shadows in the garden.
It was Christmas Eve. He’d left Santa drink and some food for the reindeers but they still hadn’t arrived. He was hoping to see them and wasn’t going back to bed until he did. He strained ears but still no bells. He wiped the window again – nothing. He thought he would make a den with his pillows so he could still see out of the window a little. He pulled them up and sat in the middle like a guard on duty.
“I wonder,” he thought, “if Santa got my letter. I’d love a puppy. I could play with him in the garden and train him. Mother said we couldn’t cope with a dog and thought a Playstation or robot would be fine.”
No, he wanted a dog, a big one with short fur that he could train to do tricks. Or a smaller one that he could train in a circus to ride on the backs of horses and jump through hoops. Or what about a great big hairy dog, the sort that helps mountain rescuers? Even a medium sized dog that could be trained to catch villains. “So many to choose from,” he thought. Just one would do. I’ll leave it to Santa.”
He looked again at the window. Nothing, not even a sound. The moon shone through, filling his bedroom. Clouds crept by, casting shadows on the wall. He was so warm and comfortable and his
eyes felt heavy.
“Perhaps I’ll go to sleep for a moment,” he thought. “I’m sure to hear him.”
As he nodded off, Santa was just descending on to the roof top. “Where is it?” he muttered, beginning to shuffle through his parcels. “I put it in myself.”
“There you are,” he whispered, picking up a tiny puppy. “You’re just a bundle of wool,” he added, holding the tiny creature on his hand. It was all black with dark eyes and a pink nose.
“I know you’ll be perfect for Harry. You look like a woolly sheep.”
He put the puppy in a basket near the fireplace. “You’ll be safe now. I’ll see you next year.” And off he went silently into the starry night.
By Gillian Herbert