Chicken Soup for the Dog Lover's Soul Read Online Free PDF Page B

nose against an arm. This beautiful big dog, overflowing with affection, lets us know he is ready for some serious lovin’.
    I am grateful that although he is clearly Larry’s dog, he has included me in the circle of his love. Often, while rubbing his large chest, I lean over and touch my forehead to his. Then he lifts his paw, places it on my arm and sighs with pleasure. We stay that way for a while, just enjoying our connection.
    When we finish, Beau jumps to his feet, his eyes sparkling and his large tail waving wildly. It’s time to eat or play. Or go to work with Larry. Or have some other kind of wonderful fun.
    To our delight, that skinny, worried dog has become an exuberant and devoted companion. Beau knows that life is good when you live with people you love.
    Carol Kline

A Christmas for Toby
    On Christmas morning, 1950, my parents gave my sister, Alyce, my brother, Chuck and me a black Lab puppy named Toby. I was seven and the youngest.
    Toby, just two months old but large for his age, bounded out of his carrying cage, a red ribbon around his neck. Excited, he wagged his mighty tail wildly, and before we knew it, he had knocked over the Christmas tree. Ornaments went flying in every direction. Then Toby’s tail got wrapped in the wiring. He dragged the tree across the floor and proudly presented it to my mother.
    Mom stood stock-still, squinted her eyes and opened her mouth wide, but no sound came from her. She just stared at Toby through half-opened eyes as his tail continued a vigorous thumping against the wood floor. With every thump, more ornaments fell from the ravaged limbs of the tree, landing in shattered, colorful piles. Finally, Mom opened her eyes wide and yelled, “The tree is ruined!”
    “No, Mom. We’ll fix it. It’ll be like new, but with fewer ornaments,” I said soothingly, fearing she would banish Toby from the family. Mom stood motionless as Alyce, Chuck and I untangled Toby’s tail from the wiring. I held the squirming pupwhilemy brother and sister reassembled the tree and propped it up against the wall in the corner of the living room.
    Dad tilted his head from side to side. “Doesn’t look too bad,” he said as he rubbed his chin. “It’s really not leaning all that much. Could have been worse. Toby’s just excited, Mother.”
    We all studied the tree, forgetting about Toby, whom I had lowered to the floor.
    “What’s that sound?” Mom asked as we surveyed the room.
    “Toby’s in the packages!” Chuck shouted. He pointed to the stack of wrapped Christmas presents. “He’s tearing the ribbons.”
    I grabbed Toby again and took him outside to save him from himself—and the need to look for a new home.
    A year passed. We all survived the loss of at least one shoe to Toby’s teething. Despite his mischief making, Toby became a belovedmember of our family. He grewto be the biggest black Lab anyone in our town had ever seen.
    A few days before Christmas, Toby became ill and we rushed himto the animal hospital. The veterinarian thought someone had poisoned Toby during one of his unauthorized outings.
    I began to cry. “Can we see Toby for just a few minutes?” I sniffled. “He’ll be so lonely without us, and it’s almost Christmas.”
    “Sure,” he said. “But be careful not to excite him.”
    We stood around Toby’s kennel. He looked much smaller than the mighty dog we so often caught gliding over the fence. His eyes were sad. His breathing was loud and unsteady.
    Dad stuck his large hand through the cage’s meshing so he could touch Toby. Tears filled all our eyes when Dad said, “You’ll be all right, boy.”
    Toby lifted his head for a moment, and then dropped it back with a heavy thump against the floor. I heard that thump all the way home as we rode in silence.
    The next day, when the bell rang signaling the end of class at Park Hill Elementary, my third-grade schoolmates rushed from the building into the cold December air, eager to start the Christmas