The 12 Dogs of Christmas by Emma Kragen Page A

and in plain sight to everyone—including the mayor—was a large wad of money.
    The mayor was stunned. So it was true! His brother! A dogfight profiteer! Nobel Doyle marched onto the stage, took the wad of money, and shook it in Norman’s face. “Dogfights, Norman?” Nobel said in utter disappointment. Then with anger he ripped from Norman’s overalls the patch that read: DOGCATCHER OF DOVERVILLE leaving behind the old one which read: GARBAGE COLLECTOR. “And that cat goes back to sanitation with you!” With that, the mayor left the stage to rejoin the warmth of the cheering crowd.
    Emma could not have been more pleased. Well, no, that is not true. Something could have pleased her even more. And in thinking about her father, she saw what she assumed was a momentary illusion, maybe a wish-induced mirage. But the image hung on, stayed there in the back of the hall, standing in the colors of the Christmas tree, clapping and smiling. Oh my goodness! Emma realized. It’s not an illusion; it’s not an illusion at all! She ran off the stage, up the aisle, and into the arms of her father. They hugged; they hugged so tightly they both had to catch their breath when they broke.
    â€œYou came!” Emma said.
    â€œOf course I came. You were wonderful.”
    â€œBut Aunt Dolores said, I mean, I thought—you really came.”
    â€œNothing’s more important than a promise, Em.” Emma grabbed her father again and hugged him tightly. “I love you, Dad.”
    â€œI love you too, Emma.”
    It was all a bit confusing for Max—the applauding, the cheering, the dogs playing with that funny-looking human. But wasn’t it time to go? He could use a little rest. Actually he would like to have joined the others. It looked like they were having fun, but how could he have fun without Mr. Whiteside?
    â€œMax!” Why he could almost hear Mr. Whiteside calling him. “Max!”
    Wouldn’t it be wonderful if—wait! Max looked down from the doghouse on top of the fireplace and looked into the eyes of Mr. Whiteside. But was it really Mr. Whiteside? He seemed to have four legs now, two of them wooden, and one of his old legs was covered in white. “Don’t you recognize me, Max?” Yes, of course, it was Mr. Whiteside! Max jumped out of the doghouse onto the green and red steps and ran to Mr. Whiteside, wanting to jump up on him. “Whoa, careful, boy. I’m a bit unsteady on my feet. Here, let me sit.” Mr. Whiteside sat on one of the steps, then took Max’s head in his hands and gave him a big kiss. “Oh, it’s so good to see you, Max. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it. It’s hard to ride the rails in a cast. Yes, look, I have a broken leg. Isn’t it wonderful?! You see, I was yelling at those careless men taking my furniture away when I leaned a bit too far out of the window. Thank goodness they had piled all the mattresses on the sidewalk. Fell right on top of them. Of course, then I bounced off of them onto the sidewalk, and that’s when I broke my leg. But a blessing in disguise, Max, a blessing in disguise, for while I was in the hospital, Max, the pain meant nothing, but the missing of you was unbearable. So I decided not to bear it, no matter what! And here I am! I don’t know what we’re going to do, Max. Maybe when my leg gets better, we can ride the rails out West. Who knows? But whatever may come, at least we’ll be together.”
    Max was happy. And he didn’t care if he ever saw another doghouse in his life.
    On the other side of the Christmas tree was Dolores, who had been waiting for Emma. She had not seen Douglas O’Connor enter, and saw him only when Emma ran into his arms. She felt a little awkward, and thought she should leave, but Douglas saw her and went over to her, holding out his hand. “Thank you,” Douglas said. Dolores wasn’t sure whether she should