Renee reluctantly began to walk away, but she stopped, 'Pa, let me stay just a few more minutes. Maybe they'll leave and I can go and see her again?' she pleaded.

Pa answered, 'okay - but just a few more minute, ya hear?' Pa walked back home. Renee waited about half an hour when men got into their trucks and drove away. Quietly, she walked over to Sady's pen. It seemed that pen had been ripped apart and there was no sight of Sady. 'Oh no,' she thought, 'Sady - where are ya girl?' she called.

In corner of pen, Renee spotted a large, wooden crate. Carefully, she pulled mesh aside and slowly crawled through to get inside kennel. Looking from side to side, she made her way to crate. She could hear faint, muffled sounds but wasn't sure what to make of it. Oh so cautiously, she proceeded to peer inside crate. What she would see would change her life forever. Pulling open broken, but ajar top, she discovered a mound of tiny, four-legged fur balls. All of them looked like beautiful Sady. 'Ah,' she whispered, 'that was your secret.' But where was Sady?

Just then, man owner ran out back door and hollered at Renee, 'Wudya doin' here?!' Startled, Renee ran, tripping through wire fence to escape harsh man. She ran so fast that she never looked back. Suddenly, Renee slipped on a slick, icy rock and plunged into freezing ravine. One thing Renee never learned how to do was to swim.

As she struggled to keep her head above icy currents, she tried to scream, but water was so cold that only muffled whispers came from her little voice. No one could hear little girl's pleas as her head bobbed up and down beneath torrent waters. But just as she was about to give up, someone did hear Renee's calls for help.

There, hiding between blanketed holly berry bushes was Sady. She could see little girl in icy waters. Sady heard Renee's unheard cries for help. Without a minute to waste, Sady struggled to maneuver her way to frozen depths below. As soon as Sady got to riverbank, little Renee went under water for last time. Sady panicked and jumped in after small child. Disappearing into murky, cold waters, Sady astonishingly re-emerged with Renee's lifeless body in tow. Carefully, she swam to riverside, pulling Renee from water.

Once atop wet, snowy earth, Sady dug a large trench and pushed little girl inside. Laying atop of her, Sady tried to warm little girl's frozen body. About that time, Pa came running over to dog, 'Get away, dawg!' he yelled at Sady, not knowing what had just happened.

But Sady just stayed there, coveting little girl's limp body. Licking her face, Renee suddenly coughed up a mouthful of river water. Pa raced to Renee's side, pushing big dog out of way, 'Renee, pun'kin!' he hollered, 'you okay?!' he added.

With that, Sady looked on with her big brown eyes. Renee opened her eyes and grabbed her Pa's neck, 'Pa,' she cried, 'what happened?'

Pa looked at Sady and then back at Renee, 'is this dawg you were talkin' about?'

Just then, Sady gently pawed Pa's arm and nudged her way over to Renee. Lying down beside Renee, Sady softly licked Renee's blued fingers and lovingly kissed her face too.

Right after Renee was able to regain her balance, man from Sady's kennel came up behind her and Pa with a shotgun in tow. 'Get outta da way!' man hollered at Pa, 'that dawg is worthless!'

Pa stood affront of Renee and Sady, and sternly peered back at man, 'Lemme' tell you something, Mr. I don't know who's dawg this is, but this dawg is NOT worthless and if it weren't for this dawg, my daughter would've surely drowned in that there river - so YOU get from here.'

Shocked, man retorted, 'but, but...' he stuttered, 'she's left a mess of pups up at house and I ain't gonna put up with all that whimperin' and whinin'.'

Renee looked up at Pa, and her eyes pleaded with him. Pa looked down at Sady, who was shivering from wet and cold, 'I'll tell ya what,' Pa said to man, 'I'd say I owe this dawg a lot for saving my little Renee,' he paused and contemplated a thought, 'I'll take this dawg and her pups.'

'But she's my dawg,' said man.

'You mean, she was your dawg,' he took Sady firmly by collar and pulled Renee next to his side, 'now, we're gonna go up to yer house and we're gonna get those pups. And then we're gonna go to my house where Renee can raise `em up `till they're old enough to go to good, and loving homes.'

'You can't do that!' said Sady's owner.

'Yes I can, and we will.'

Pushing his way past man, Pa, Renee and Sady slowly walked to man's house, and just as easily as she had crawled in before, Renee went to crate and handed pups, one by one to Pa through wire mesh. Placing tiny dogs inside his inner coat poach, he, Renee and Sady all went home together.

When they got home, Pa had Renee to go and change out of her sopping-wet clothing and he put on a warm, soothing fire in wood stove. Lying beside warmth, Renee put her arms around Sady as she nursed her pups.

Though Pa didn't have a gift to give Renee this Christmas, Sady was able to give both of them best Christmas Gift ever. And to this day, Renee still seeks to help those animals in need thanks to love of a gentle giant.

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The moral of this story is, that Christmas is not about packages, ribbons or any material things - Christmas is about gift of loving, caring, compassion, understanding and most of all being able to give of ones self despite what life may bring. Christmas is, after all, season of brotherly love. Why not set example today.

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© 2004 The Christmas Gift by C. Bailey-Lloyd (aka. LadyCamelot) See this and other articles like this one at www.holisticjunction.com

Twenty years passed before I read Aristotle's 'Nichomachean Ethics' and saw my 'contribution dynamics of day to day life' were therein contemplated. He had written this book in honour of his father, whose ethics had inspired him. Maybe that means society had screwed his father up a little in matter of women too, I can't say it comes through in this book and I know that lots of people have wanted to put these words into mouth of great men so others would follow. My father had failed to find his equal in love and my mother was a schizophrenic. He never implicated to us that this was way of women and it was a great sorrow to him that we might be negatively inclined towards women as a result. It did happen to my oldest brother in some weird ways that I cannot trace to my father. My own placement of women on a pedestal was no doubt partially due to a lack of a good female role model or trusted friend (that a sister might have supplied).

Like fine porcelain objets d'art, I marveled at their depth and beauties as if on a pedestal by gods they had been placed. 'Jim' was long dead when I began to write in earnest in order to attempt to express Joy of LEARNING he had encouraged in me. All marvels, mysteries, experiences and loves of life (except having children) had been mine. I knew my writing skills were rudimentary at best. Big words and gift of gab are not all it takes. With little hope of capturing essence in style, I proceeded to do what Jim could easily have done. His wit and style, his writing skills were plentiful. I had encouraged him to take this as his purpose before his life ended. There had been two years during which our time together centered on his impending demise in physical form. That was due to my 'occult' study of things like palm and face reading (chirogamy and physiogamy). It was clear to me that he would die around age of 65. Unless, and it is a big word, just like 'IF'. Free will can over-ride confluence of forces that create action if that free will is properly constructed with RIGHT THOUGHT. The best construct for me has always been helping others and giving. Thus I felt it would be for him. If he devoted himself to path of giving to all of society many things he knew that few apprehended. He was a truly educated man and could have been a Renaissance man if he had not devoted himself to our upbringing.

He said he had poor eyesight and had no desire to cheat fate. He was also quite unconvinced that such concepts had a high degree of fact and likelihood. Like me, he had always doubted and knew value of such skepticism. He liked idea of a spiritual cosmology that had a plan, purpose and consciousness in collective dimensional layers that harmonize. He knew I was not a follower and that my psychic experiences had been real for me. We all try to fool ourselves with massive rationale and wishful thinking. He did not accuse me of this, but he may have thought it - it was good to talk about his life and prepare myself. Saying how much he meant to me and my brothers for many times was a balm for my soul. There were so many things to thank him for and none of them were easy for him to listen to. In end it was enough to honor his freedom and accept his choice to take whatever happened in stride. We put him in ground day after he turned 65.

He had a note in his wallet that gave me as person to call in event he died. I am third born. He knew I knew what to say and that my story of where he was going was real and good. He had been given a clean bill of health to work after his retirement age just a couple of weeks earlier, before he went to cottage for his vacation. He died of a heart attack and had crawled up from where he was working on dock, as near as we can figure. He loved that place as much as he loved us. Years earlier he had visited me in Miami and we had time together as he thought about what he would do when he retired. His time in Miami Beach led him to say it was an ‘elephant graveyard’ that could not be his ending place. I stopped foretelling death!

Success is not my goal and no one should emulate me, it is a lonely and painful existence to be blessed with such insight. The gifts carry a heavy responsibility and separate me from those who I most enjoy. There is always need even if I don't want to, to reach out and help someone. Being outside materially focused 'reality' and trying to change world like Don Quixote can also become something of a bore, when all little things one does are crushed in mendacity of despair and disbelief that allows ego to deny its soul. No, I expect NO recognition and I know there is hope to see and learn for humanity. In end if my writing has an impact it will make me have to do things that will take me away from constant proof of ancient lovers of life that I do enjoy honoring in these words. It matters little what others think (I take a lot of pride in what they do.) because I know my soul will suffer less and enjoy more, fruits of all I have learned, wherever I go.