EVERYTHING
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During last July’s 5.8 earthquake, 3-year-old Bronwyn told her 1-year-old sister, “We’re going for a wiggle.” READ MORE
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The wind whistled in and the bag blew open and a tiny tan teddy bear fell free. It fell through the night sky, fell and fell, past the stars, past the full moon, past the low, rolling clouds. From where Santa sat on his plush red sleigh seat, the bear got smaller and smaller. That bear was for Jasper Sims on Lincoln Street! Santa knew he had to save that bear. "On Dasher, on Dancer, on Prancer and Vixen, on-. All of you, on! On! Chase that falling bear!" And Dasher dashed and Dancer danced and Prancer pranced and Vixen vixed. All of them sprinted downward, past the stars, past the full moon, past the low, rolling clouds, and the whole world grew closer until Santa could see the mountains and then the forest on Grizzly Peak and then the pine trees in the forest and the needles on the pine trees and- "Mayday! Mayday! Pull out, Reindeer! Back to the sky! Climb, Reindeer, climb!" And with all his might, Dasher tried to dash. And with all her might, Dancer tried to dance. And Prancer tried to prance, and Vixen tried to vix. The reindeer moved their flying feet as fast as flying feet could move, but Prancer's back hoof caught on the highest branch of the tallest tree and the whole team fell, bumping down the branches and crashing in the soft, soft snow. - - - - - "Everyone OK?" Santa called out. One by one, the reindeer shook the snow off their antlers and the pine needles from their noses and said they were OK. "Looks like we've got some work to do," said Santa. Santa's toy sack had burst open. Toys were everywhere, shivery in the snow, all up and down the mountainside. Santa and the reindeer hiked up, they hiked down, they hiked in circles, for hours and hours they hiked, digging storybooks from the snow and shaking hula hoops from high branches. They gathered every last toy except one, and they were cold and tired, but they couldn't stop: The missing toy was the one they'd swooped down from the sky to catch in the first place, the little tan teddy bear, the one for Jasper Sims on Lincoln Street. "We've got to find that little tan teddy bear," said Santa. Blitzen, who had fallen three times while rescuing a toy paratrooper from a tall tree, shook a sprained hoof and sneezed and muttered to Vixen, "We never should have chased that bear in the first place." Santa, who knows if you've been good or bad, heard this and trudged through the snow saying, "Ho-ho-ho" but shaking his head "No-no-no." "No-no-no!" he said. "That's not the spirit, Blitzen! An attitude like that has no place on this team." Blitzen looked down and pawed at the snow and said nothing. "Do you have any idea who that little tan teddy bear is for?" asked Santa. Blitzen shrugged and pouted and wouldn't look Santa in the eye. "That little tan teddy bear," said Santa, "is for Jasper Sims on Lincoln Street!" "So?" said Blitzen. "What's so special about Jasper Sims?" "What's so special about Jasper Sims?!" Santa roared. "Jasper Sims, you should know, is a Little Kid, and as such he happens to be a Preferred Customer! Come now, Blitzen. You've been at this for 700 years. Surely you know our mission statement." All the reindeer sang out at once: "To provide speedy and jolly overnight fulfillment of any and all reasonable holiday wishes to every good little boy and girl on the planet. For they are our Preferred Customers." "Got it, Blitzen?" said Santa. Blitzen blushed beneath his fur. "Got it, Boss." "Well, then," said Santa. "Let's find that tan teddy bear!" But the teddy bear was nowhere to be found. The wind grew stronger on the mountainside. Snow rose up off the slope in sheets and flew in the faces of the reindeer and froze Santa's beard stiff. A gust hit Vixen and sent her hooves-over-tail into a snowdrift and Comet had to dig her out with his antlers. Vixen thanked Comet and winked at him. Cupid looked over at them and smiled, but then a great branch broke from a tree and fell toward their heads. "Watch out!" Cupid called, and Comet pulled Vixen out of the way just in time. "We need to find some shelter!" Santa shouted, and the reindeer could hardly hear him over the hissing wind. "There!" Santa said, "There's a cave just uphill! Reindeer, to the sleigh! We need to drag it with us before we lose the toys again. Everybody! Up the hill! To the cave! Now!" - - - - - It was almost completely dark in the cave, but the ground was dry and the air was still, and Santa's team savored the hush. There wasn't a sound to be heard in there except...What was that? Snoring. There, at the back of the cave, sound asleep, was a giant brown bear. And snug beneath his mug was another furry thing, perhaps a baby bear, small and soft and tan. "Oh, goodness," said Santa. "What do we do?" whispered Blitzen. That small furry thing was not a baby bear; it was a teddy bear! Jasper Sims' teddy bear, to be precise. "Now, how exactly did that happen?" Santa asked. One by one the reindeer shrugged. If you've never seen a reindeer shrug, it's quite a sight. Santa tiptoed quietly toward the brown bear to fetch Jasper's gift, but the bear stirred and snored and nearly woke. It's hard for a big fellow like Santa to tiptoe quietly. Dancer and Prancer, both excellent tiptoers, made it to the bear's side without waking him, but when they lowered their mugs to grab Teddy, their antlers tickled the big brown bear. He rolled over testily and waved a great paw, and Prancer got socked in the nose. The big bear groaned and yawned and slept some more, still clinging hard to Jasper's tan toy. "Why don't you try, Blitzen?" said Santa. "Actually, I've got a better idea," Blitzen said. "Let's just let him keep it." "Blitz, what did I tell you?" said Santa. And all the reindeer sang out together: "That teddy bear is bound for Jasper Sims!" Santa and his team were at a loss. They needed help. They needed someone stealthy and quick and light on his feet. Just then something came into the cave. It appeared to be stealthy and quick and light on its feet. The Thing stopped and stared at Santa and the reindeer. "Oh my," said the Thing. "Guests!" The Thing licked a paw and patted down the fur on its head. These, the Thing knew, were not just guests, but Illustrious Guests. The Thing didn't want to act star-struck, though. It was a very proud Thing. "Welcome!" it said, and strode toward the reindeer. It was a small, sleek creature, gray and spotted and maybe striped, too - it was dark, after all - with a pair of pointy ears and a short, ringed tail. "A kitty cat!" Vixen said. The Thing stiffened its back and turned up its nose. "I'm no kitty cat," the Thing said. "I'm a bobcat, Robert by birth, Bob to close friends, and Honored President to the 10,000 members of the Venerable Order of Bobcats!" Vixen took a good look at the Thing. It was a very handsome Thing. She narrowed her eyes and approached. "Well," she said, "hello there, Bob." "Well, actually, only my close friends call me-" "I was just wondering," Vixen said, coming closer with each word, "maybe you could...help us out." For a moment Bob couldn't move. He'd never seen eyes like Vixen's eyes. Even in the dark, they shined like stars. He would have let her tickle him with those long, lowered lashes, but her antlers would get in the way. "So, Cutie," she said. "You gonna give us a hand?" With that, Bob gathered his pride and jumped to a rocky ledge and announced in an actorly way: "You, my lady, have come to the right cave! If it's a helping hand you need, or maybe a paw, I've got four of 'em. We Venerable Bobs are honor bound to aid all visitors, lost souls and wayfarers in the night. We are helpers to the helpless, givers to the giftless, servers to the...the...serveless! Now, Missy, what's your bind?" Vixen rolled her eyes and nodded toward the big, snoring, probably-ferocious bear. "Oh! Mishka?" Bob waved his paw. "Mishka's a pussycat." "Well, then," she said. "Let's see you get that teddy bear from him." Bob looked at the bear, then back at Vixen. "My dear," he said, "that's going to have to wait until spring." "Looks like the kitten's not such a hero after all," said Blitzen. "He's a bobcat," said Vixen. "Of the Venerable Order of Bobcats," said Bob. "Never heard of it," said Blitzen. Bob hopped from the ledge and marched toward Blitzen. "Never heard of it?" he said. "Never! Heard of! It?!! The Venerable Order's nothing less than legendary, my famous friend! We're a tradition, an institution, part of the fabric of life around here!" He sprang to the corner of the bear's lair, knocked over an open bag of Bear Snaxx and started munching. "Still never heard of it," said Blitzen. Bob looked up. "We," he said, "are the Bearsitters!" "The Bearsitters?" said all the reindeer at once. "Sure," said Bob. "We take care of all the sleeping Mishki in the forest." "Why?" Blitzen said. "Why?" cried Bob. "Are you really asking me this?" He pounced to where the great brown bear was sleeping. "Look at this guy! Excellent hunter, I've heard. But the first flake of snow falls and he's out cold. Utterly helpless. A creature who snoozes all winter needs his creature comforts looked after, you know." Bob pawed a few more Bear Snaxx from the bag, crunched them and smiled. "That's where I come in." Santa narrowed his eyes. "I smell a rat," he said. "No, he's a bobcat," said Vixen. Santa had been standing in the darkest corner of the dark cave. Now he came forward into a shaft of moonlight that had found its way through a break in the rocky roof. For the first time, Bob saw the old man in all his red velvet majesty. A shiver went down his spine and back up again. Santa fixed his gaze on Bob. "Excuse me, Mr. Cat," he said, "but do these beasts know you're entering their homes?" Bob felt his stomach arrange itself into a small, tight knot. "Well," he said, "not really. I just sort of...slip in and out while they're sleeping." Santa put his thumbs in his belt and walked slowly toward Bob. He had the look of a father who's caught you lying, or a teacher who's caught you copying, or a cowboy who's caught you cheating at cards. He did not look pleased. "Mr. Cat," he said. "As you may know, it's my job to find out who's naughty or nice. Now, let me ask you, do you think it's appropriate behavior, this business of slipping into people's houses while they sleep and helping yourself to snacks? Do you?" Santa looked at Bob and waited for an answer. Nobody made a sound. Bob backed into a corner and shivered. "Yeah," said Blitzen. "Like who would ever do a thing like that?" First Dasher burst out laughing, then Dancer, and Prancer, and all the rest. They laughed until they were rolling on the ground. They laughed until their noses turned red. Santa, the old chimney-sliding cookie-eater, laughed too. Bob laughed. They laughed and laughed until the great brown bear yawned and growled and woke up and roared. Then they stopped laughing. "Who dares wake me?" thundered the bear. "Do you have any idea what month it is?" "That would be De-De-December," said Bob. "And, may I ask," said the bear, "WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY CAVE?!" "He's your housesitter," said Blitzen. "He sits in your house when you're too tired to eat him." The bear shot Blitzen a cold glare. "And who, horned friend, are you?" Vixen stepped in front of Blitzen and smiled. "We're Santa's reindeer," she said. "Merry Christmas." - - - - - An hour later, when they'd explained Christmas to the bear, he still didn't understand what they were doing in his cave. Nor did he believe reindeer could fly. His name was Mishka Zubov, and what he really wanted to do was sleep. "There's a rhythm to my life," he said. "I go to bed when autumn ends and wake when spring arrives. I've never heard of your little holiday and I didn't need to hear about it today. So: Understand. One. Thing. A hibernating bear wakes up for nothing and no one!" "But Mishka!" said Bob. "They gave you a gift!" "A what?" "A Christmas present! They dropped it from the sky to the snow and as soon as I saw it out there I knew it was for you. So, as your Bearsitter, I brought it here and slipped it under that mug of yours." Mishka looked down. He was still holding the tan teddy bear. "You brought me this little cub?" he said. "I adore this cub!" Bob held up his chin and pointed his little tail straight into the air. "We provide personalized service," he said. "For those who deserve the Very Best." "Hey," Santa said, "that's pretty good!" "Thanks," said Bob. "I've been working on it." "But there's one problem." "Which is?" “Well," Santa said, "that's not Mishka's bear." "What?!" said Bob. "What?!" said Mishka. "That teddy bear," said Santa, "is bound for Jasper Sims on Lincoln Street." Bob looked at Santa, then at Mishka, then at the teddy bear. He took a deep breath. "Mishka my friend," he said, "I'm afraid you're gonna have to give that bear back." "I'll have to WHAT?" roared Mishka. "Perhaps there's something you don't understand, my small, skinny, probably-tasty friend. You are a bobcat. I am a bear. Bobcats do not give instructions to bears. And - I ask this out of pure intellectual interest - WHAT'S IT TO YOU IF JASPER SIMS GETS HIS TEDDY BEAR?!" Bob did not cower, did not back down. The question had inflamed his honor. He walked so close to Mishka that their noses almost touched. "Let me tell you a story, Mishk," he said. "As a matter of fact, let me tell you all a story. It's a story that's passed down generation to generation, the story of how the Venerable Order of Bobcats got its start, and if you think back a few hundred years, Mr. Claus, you'll remember just what I'm talking about. It turns out you've met my kind before. So let me start from the start, a little number we Bobs call The Epic of Eofor." And Bob cleared his throat and tuned up his actor-voice and told the old epic in the fanciest words he could find... - - - - - "It was a winter just like this one, on a night much like this, and my Great-Great-plenty-of-Greats Grandcat Eofor was out on a hunt, chasing a snow-white rabbit through the crystal frost, across frozen streams, up slippery banks and over jagged slick stones. He chased the rabbit many miles, plenty of miles, more miles than a cat can count, and then, beneath a high ledge of dark rock, the rabbit disappeared, just like that, vanished completely. My Great Grandpa Eofor had run to a place where he'd never been; he was lost there with no food. He had no way to get back. If he didn't freeze, he would surely starve. The day passed; the night began. "And then he saw it, on the icy ledge above: a phantom in the mist, a slim, shadowy white-tailed deer, and there was a wind-toppled tree, a tree he'd not seen before, leaning on the ledge, showing the way, and my Great Grandpa Eofor went to the tree and surefooted his way up the frosty bark. He reached the ledge, set his paws on the ice-glazed stone. His stomach had command of him. He darted toward the deer, mad with hunger, and the deer, like the rabbit before him, disappeared, just like that, vanished completely. "Great Grandpa Eofor turned to come down the toppled tree, but a ferocious gust of wind came howling down from the heavens and blew the log down and the Father of the Bobcats was trapped. Three days and three nights he shivered on that ledge, famished at first, then too cold to feel hunger, then too tired to feel cold. He was a goner for certain, I tell you. But on the third night - a streak in the sky, and the sound of small bells ringing, and a deep human laugh from the heavens. "And he saw you, Santa, and you, Dasher, and you, Dancer, and - all of you; he saw you all. And you came toward him, an eagle of prey or mercy he could not know. He'd come to hunt deer, Great Grandpa Eofor; could it be now that deer were hunting him? You were in the sky before his noble green bobcat eyes; you soared high and swooped low, down towards Eofor, my father's father many times over. Your eyes were sharp, your antlers sharper, and Eofor prepared for the battle of his life. "And then the laughing man called out- "'Ho-ho-ho!' "'Stay there!' said the laughing man, 'and we will save you!' "Great Grandpa Eofor could not know if it was a trick, but what else could he do? He stayed where he was and awaited his fate. "The ledge was too small and too slick for your sleigh to land, Santa, but you and these wondrous creatures swooped as close to the frozen stone as you could: You risked life and limb and beard and toy-sack and antler and hoof. And you, Dasher, you fabulous beast, you scooped up Great Grandpa Eofor with your antlers and, jingle bells jingling, lifted him safely to the starry sky, and all through the night he delivered toys with you, all across the earth, and, coming home, already a legend among his kin, he declared a new Way for all the bobcats of his line: We should, he said, hunt no more deer (unless absolutely necessary) and every Christmas we should emulate Heroic Santa and deliver gifts and comfort to all the sleeping creatures of the forest, for all the winters, in all the years to come, forever. This is the Way of the Venerable Order, my friend Mishka, and this is My Way." - - - - - Santa and his reindeer sat as if in a trance, dazed smiles on their faces as they remembered that long-ago night. Mishka was holding his teddy bear tight, looking at Bob, wearing a perplexed look. Finally he cleared his grumbly-growly bear-throat and spoke up. "Um, Bob - that's your name, right? - just one question: Where in your great grandpa's lovely little way does it say you're supposed to STEAL MY BEAR SNAXX?!!!" Bob took two steps back. "Um, yeah. The bit about the snacks came later." Mishka swatted the empty Snaxx sack aside and sauntered toward Bob, menace in his dark eyes. Bob arched his back; his fur stood on end. He hissed. Mishka stood on hind legs and roared. Santa stepped between them. "That's about enough, Gentlemen," he said. "Mishka, I can assure you that crunching a customer's Christmas cookie is very much a part of the Santa tradition. I didn't get this belly of mine from nowhere. Young Bob was just trying to play the role." Mishka shook his head and went back on all fours. "What a silly role," he said. "Is that so?" said Santa. "I notice you're still holding the teddy bear Bob brought you. Which brings me back to our little problem. Jasper Sims, you see, needs that teddy bear." Mishka stared Santa in the eye. They looked like a pair of savvy, big-tummied businessmen settling down to talk turkey. "Mr. Claus, you see, your buddy Bob gave me this bear," Mishka said. "And I'm going to keep it. You say it's for some little Jasper. You know what I say? " "What do you say?" asked Santa. "I say I don't believe you." "Come with us," Santa said, "and we'll prove it to you." "The only place I'm headed," said Mishka, " is back to sleep, and I intend to take this darling cub with me." "We'll show you what Christmas is," said Dancer. "We'll show you how we fly," said Prancer. "We'll show you a good time," said Vixen. Still Mishka refused. Bob had had about enough of this. He sprang forward and landed two whiskers from Mishka's mouth. He could very well have ended up a Bear Snack himself. "Listen, Mishk," he said, "the fact is, I've botched things up pretty bad here. I gave you some poor little kid's toy. All year long, this kid can't sleep, he's tired all night, waking up at two, at three, wandering the house, driving his folks bonkers, asking to play checkers at dawn, feeling weak in the morning, unable to play with the other kids, unable to run through the woods or wade in the stream or catch fish with his bare hands, all the things that you, an ordinarily-well-rested bear, can do. You get all winter, every winter, to sleep while I look after your place and ask only a few delicious, nutritious Bear Snaxx in return, and halfway around the world there's this bleary-eyed little schmoe who can't even get a single night's rest! So what does the kid do? He asks Santa for a little tan teddy bear, something to keep him cozy at night, a little furry friend, someone to love and be loved by through thick and thin, someone to make the dark a little less scary and the night a little less long, and you, you, Mr. Mishka, what do you do? You keep the kid's bear! You tell him, 'Kid, I don't give a whisker about your sleep, because all that matters to me is mine!' That's what you say, Mishk, and I just can't believe it, coming from you, because I always thought you were a gentler soul. You seemed like a good enough sort, sleeping there in your lair. Think of this kid, his faith in Santa shattered! That kid may never sleep again. It's just a shame, I tell you, just a weeping shame." Now, maybe you've never seen a bear cry, but even if you have seen a bear cry, you've never seen a bear cry the way big, ferocious Mishka was crying at the end of Bob's speech. "Put me in the sleigh!" Mishka said. "I want to deliver this kid's toy personally!" And so Bob and Mishka led Santa and his team down through the dark, snowy forest, through deep drifts, across ice patches, and quietly past all the places where bears were sleeping. Finally they came to a broad clearing at the edge of a cliff. "Look like a good place for liftoff?" asked Bob. "Well," said Santa, "it's what we've got. To your posts, team! Prepare for takeoff! Get your bells on!" The reindeer went to their posts. They prepared for takeoff. They got their bells on. Mishka sat next to Santa in the driver's seat. Bob stood beside the sleigh, drying his eyes, waving goodbye. Suddenly, Santa shouted. "Mr. Cat!" he said. "Yes, Sir?" "What kind of attitude is that?" "Wha-what attitude?" "The just-standing-there-waiting-for-things-happen-attitude! If you want to be the Santa of the forest, I'd say it would be a good idea to spend a little time with the real McCoy, don't you think?" "Well, I...well, yes, but I..." "Hop in, my friend!" Santa said. "Ho-ho-ho! Tonight you and Mishka are assistant Santas for all the world! You've saved Christmas for Jasper Sims on Lincoln Street. You've saved Christmas for everyone!" And so Bob hopped in. There wasn't much room left in the sleigh seat, even in the new Deluxe Model. So he sat on Mishka's lap, curled like a kitten, right next to Jasper Sims' little tan teddy bear, and he felt the cold wind on his fur as they flew up, up, into the night sky to slip into a million houses, and give a million toys, and help themselves to a snack or two along the way. Greg Blake Miller is a writer and college instructor in Las Vegas. The UC Irvine graduate is a longtime contributor to Churm Publishing, Inc. |
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