Merry Christmas.

This is a story, I'm proud to say,
Of a very special Greyhound and a very special day.
He'd just been adopted and had now arrived home,
Such a lovely home with much room to roam.

He was very young, his experience was low,
His curiosity was high, did his excitement show?
The people were nice who had driven him home.
How wonderful, he thought, not to be alone.

In the kennel he'd heard stories of Christmas past,
Now Christmas was coming, how long would it last?
Oh, what to expect, and what would he see,
But it was dark out, he thought, "Guess it's bedtime for me".

His eyes closed softly, his breath became deep,
And in no time at all he was fast asleep.
His dream came quickly, he was right in this place,
Why, he had a smile about him, all over his face.

But the young Grey was puzzled, it just wasn't clear,
Why everyone was so happy this time of year.
More people than ever were coming and going,
And to top it all off, why, my goodness, it was snowing!

He saw a tree decorated as nice as can be,
But the tree was inside, not outside you see.
The lights on the tree were sparkling and bright,
And they lit up the presents beneath it just right.

Now, what's all this talk of Santa and his elves?
And for all to be good in spite of themselves?
Well, being good is so easy for Greys,
Because we're naturally good in so many ways.

In my dream I met Santa and he touched my face!
He told me to be respectful in my run of the place.
He taught me to touch my nose with my paw,
And he'd return in my dream to see what I saw.

The rest of my dream was cheery and bright,
And that's how I spent most all of the night.
In the morning I awoke to see what I could find.
Santa wasn't around, but he was in my mind.

And that's where he stays, he's still real it seems,
When I touch my nose he comes back in my dreams.
Sometimes we talk, and sometimes we roo,
But all the time we wish,


By Roger Widdifield.


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