Page 31 of The Christmas Box

Though maybe I shouldn’t worry—when I got home last night, to my shock, she’d used the pad! On her own! I gave her a treat—even though I think the idea is to do it right when she goes, so she understands why she’s getting it.

“You’re really moving up in the world,” I tell her as we turn into the parking lot. “Just last week you were homeless. Now you’re, like, a therapy dog.” After putting the truck in park, I take her furry little face between my hands. “Do me proud, girl. Be nice to all the sweet people.”

She does surprisingly well on a leash, and now she trots ahead of me like a pro toward the front doors, where I stop to punch in the code that opens them.

As Marley and I step inside, the response is instant. A lost-looking woman in a long, quilted robe bends down to pet the dog, her eyes wide. A man rolls his wheelchair up to get in on the action, saying, “Nice doggie, nice doggie,” as he strokes his hand through her fur. Nurse Gabbi comes rushing up, as well, mooning at the pup from behind her black-framed glasses as she reaches down to scratch behind the dog’s ears. And Marley’s eating up all the attention, licking hands and fingers while her tail goes a million miles an hour.

As I walk her a little farther down the hall, I come upon maintenance and administrative people busy stringing lights and hanging boughs of greenery. Sparkly snowmen made of felt now decorate some of the doors.

“Oh, look at this sweet puppy.” I look up to see Helen exit the room to my right and her eyes meet mine. “I’m so glad you brought her—look at how much love she’s getting already.” Then she stoops to pet the dog herself. “Hello, Marley—it’s so very nice to make your acquaintance. Thank you for coming to see us today.”

“Looks like you guys are pretty busy here,” I tell her when she raises back up. I motion to the decorating taking place. “Are you sure this is a good day for Marley to make it busier?”

She waves a hand down through the air. “Oh, absolutely. Any day is a good day for a furry visitor.” Then she pushes out a big sigh while studying a pile of open boxes filled with holiday stuff. “We’re so behind on this. We’ve been shorthanded too long. Finally, today, I said, ‘Just start putting it out.’ If we don’t, Christmas will come without our residents getting to enjoy it.”

That’s when she hands me a green wreath dotted with holly berries and takes the leash. “Trade you,” she says, then points. “Up on that hook please. It’s too high for me to reach.”

I do as I’m told, after which she hands me more fake greenery, indicating it should be draped from other temporary hooks already lining the corridor.

“What a help you are!” she says before switching her focus in another direction. “Shannon, come meet Travis’s dog.”

I glance back to see Shannon roll up in her usual fleece pants, today’s sporting multi-colored snowflakes, and like everyone else, she looks delighted at the sight of Marley. She bends to pet her, cooing to her in words I can’t understand.

Next thing I know, even Dottie and her babydoll are inching closer, and the old woman is wearing the first hint of a smile I’ve ever seen on her expressive face.

“Her name’s Marley,” I tell Dottie from where I’m hanging yet another wreath.

“Mar-ley,” she repeats slowly. It’s the only time I’ve ever heard her speak. When Helen raises her gaze to me and our eyes connect, I suspect it’s a fairly rare occurrence.

“That’s right,” Helen tells her. “Marley. Want to come pet her? She’s very gentle.”

I pause my decorating work, watching as Dottie leans cautiously closer, finally lowering her wrinkled hand to the fur on Marley’s back. As if she senses the need for calm, Marley stands extremely still. I’m suddenly very impressed with my new dog’s behavior.

More residents come from their rooms to see her as Helen keeps me lining the hallway with boughs of holly and strands of sparkly garland. “I was about to break out a step stool before you showed up,” she tells me. “I hope you don’t mind me putting you to work.”

“Nope,” I tell her. I may not like Christmas, but I can instinctively understand the need for cheer here,anykind of cheer. If anything about Christmas lights or holly brings the residents any joy, it’s well worth dragging it out and hanging it up.

“We always get a live tree,” she goes on to say, still holding Marley’s leash as an old man behind a walker stoops to pet her, “but every time we’ve even thought about it so far, it comes a snow and sidetracks Glen, our maintenance man, from getting it for us. So that’s got to happen after the rest of this is done.”

When I turn to ask her, “What next?” she just laughs.

“Take a break,” she says.” You’ve saved me a lot of climbing.” Then she puts the leash back in my hand. “Why don’t you take this little cutie in to see your dad?”

“He’s still...?”

She nods pleasantly. “His usual self. I’ll even head in with you.”

Together, we start toward his room, and she steps in first. “Look who’s here, Tom.”

“Is it Travis?”

I enter the room as she says, “Not only Travis, but he brought his dog, Marley, to visit.”

When Dad’s eyes light up, I’m not sure if it’s for me or the dog, but it doesn’t really matter—it warms my heart to see him smile, to see him being the man I’ve come to know these last couple of weeks.

“Sorry I didn’t make it in yesterday, Dad.”

He’s shaking his head. “Don’t matter—you’re here now. And what a cute pup ya got there.”

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