My Merry Christmas

By Abby Westover

All I wanted for Christmas or my birthday was a puppy.

I was bullied a lot at school, and I never had anyone to talk to about it. I was so sad I cried. I did talk to my mom and dad about it, but I wanted someone who didn't talk back to me. I wanted a dog. I snuck notes into mom's purse and dad's shoes asking and asking for a puppy. I even wrote a poem about it.

I had some fish, but I doubted that I could run around with them and play fetch. The only fun thing to do with them was tap on the glass and see them swim quickly away because they were scared. Maybe it was good exercise for the fish, but not for me.

I had a great time on my birthday, but sadly, I didn't get a puppy. I never cared which kind of dog I got, I didn't care what gender. I just wanted one.

On Christmas Eve, I gave up asking mom and dad for a dog. I knew they couldn't afford it. But I thought as I got into bed that night, maybe somehow, someway, it could happen. Maybe I'd wake up and see a puppy. I pictured in my mind a bow on his or her head if I were to get one. That made me giggle a little. Then I went to sleep.

On Christmas morning of 2001, I opened my eyes. I was excited. But my heart sank. I heard no barking. I decided to stay in bed. I didn't want to face everyone. A few minutes later, I heard loud running on the stairs. It turned out to be my little brother and he was out of breath as he slammed the door open. "Abby!" He cried. "You got a puppy!"

At first I didn't believe him. "Yeah right," I said sleepily. "You're just trying to get me upstairs." "I'm not joking!" he yelled. He tried to pull me out of bed. He got as far as the edge. Eventually, I fell off the bed and I gave in when he started pulling at me again. I walked slowly upstairs. I followed him into the living room and what I saw woke me up.

There in front of me was a small black and white puppy -- as small as my hand. Dad handed him to me. I found out that he had been up all night trying to keep him quiet. He had got him at an adoption center. He told me he was half the size of his siblings. I was so happy I nearly cried. He didn't have a bow stuck to his head, but what did I care? Everyone asked what I was going to call him. I had no idea, so I just thought of the most simple name that came in my mind. I said Sam. My older sister Aubree didn't think it was that good and said I should change the name later, but Sam stuck.

Sam is short for Sammy which is short for Samuel. I also decided Alan would be a good middle name. I absolutley loved him, no matter how much he pooped and slept.

I put on my gloves and hat from my grandmother, and my sweater from my other grandmother and put on the leash and collar. Since we were all up way early, we went back to bed. I put him in a box with his toys and chewbone. He tried to get out, but later on fell asleep.

From that day on, we called him Sam or Sammy. The backyard is his home, and his hobby is barking at birds. He ran away a couple of times, but we caught him. I know that his birthday is in October, so I chose Halloween for his birthday. (Hee hee!)

Whenever I have a problem, I go to him and I feel better. We had a fun time talking about me being his new mom, all my siblings being aunts and uncles and mom and dad being grandma and grandpa. We've grown quite close to him, and him close to us. We've also grown quite used to him and how annoying he can get. But no matter how annoying or muddy or loud, I love my dog Sam.

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