“Where in the gods' names is your tree, mate? It's already the twenty-first!”

I glanced over the small mountain of paperwork on the counter between us and fought to suppress a growl. The front door had been locked, but that never meant much to him. Word from the wise: never co-sign a lease with a lion. They have a way of moving in on you.

“Not the time right now, buddy,” I ground out between clenched fangs as I returned to yet another 'critically important' government document that just had to be sighed. “Kinda busy here. And anyway, Rebecca and I decided not to do anything big this year. The kids are too young to really get into it yet anyway.”

I had about ten seconds of blessed peace before a large tawny hand closed around the scruff of my neck. An involuntary yip escaped me as I was hoisted two feet into the air.

“You're doing Christmas,” he said. My face was no more than an inch from his lips. I could smell the gingerbread tea he's been drinking.

“What does it matter to you?” I managed to croak out. A normal adult wolf can't be held by the scruff of his neck. My regeneration was working overtime to keep me from slipping out of my own pelt like a coat. “They don't even have snow where you came from.”

A perfect smile slipped to his lips, exposing long white fangs. I knew in an instant it was fake. He'd slipped his professional mask back on.

“I'm their godfather. If I say they're going to have a Christmas then they're going to have a Christmas. If I say they're going to have presents and a tree, then they're going to have presents and a tree. If I want to fill their bottles up with eggnog then--”

With a grunt I wiggled free, my toes hitting the floor with a solid thunk. “They're six months old, buddy,” I said as I reached back to rub my aching neck. “Can you keep them off the 'nog until they're least old enough to walk? I'd rather they not end up completely round.”

I expected to get at least a little bit of a reaction from him for that. A chuckle, a twitch of a whisker, anything real.

Nothing.

“We're buying a tree. Now.”

At least he didn't grab me by the tail as he walked out the door.



V-town has pretty gentle winters as compared to the rest of the country that used to be known as Canada. We get snow, and it gets cold enough for my winter coat to grow out, but it's as often above freezing as it is below. A little snow always hangs about in the street-corners, but nothing nearly as bad as what you see in the countryside.

“Care to tell me where we're going, buddy?” I asked. People were rushing about in all directions, a good half of them with bags and boxes that I was pretty sure were destined to end up under a tree somewhere. “I would have thought you'd had enough pine trees for a lifetime after our walk through the Rockies.”

Well, at least that garnered me a chuckle, though he never did slow down. The cat was big enough that he cleared a channel through the mob of people around us like a icebreaker through the sea.

“I saw one here on my way in,” he muttered. “Pretty mangy guy, but better than nothing...”

Another corner and I let out a grown. “Seriously? English, I have no room. We live in an apartment!”

Set up in an alleyway, that I was pretty sure was illegal for a business, a beaver had hauled in a good two dozen pine trees of all shapes and sizes. The sign out from referred to his setup as an 'Emporium', but I wasn't about to give it the dignity of a read.

Slight problem with his stock: My apartment roof is about eight feet – I know as English's ears brush the ceiling – I don't think the yard had a single tree less than twelve feet tall.

I've seen English shopping before, I knew what was about to happen. You know the old joke about the way men shop verses the way women do? Men come in already with an idea of what they want, they pick it and move on. Women come in and compare prices, value, and talk about it.

English... English was a guy. He probably had more testosterone in a single hairball than I do in my entire body. He'd picked out a tree before we'd even set foot in the yard and made a beeline for it.

“That one.” The beaver was just about to break into his salesman spiel when English cut him off. “Give me that one.”

I'd figured out long ago not to argue with a lion. The beaver was a fast learner.



“Okay, smart guy, now what?”

We were at the front door to Monru Hall, a police dog standing carefully out of the way, with a freaking massive Christmas tree stuffed halfway through the door. I say 'halfway' was that was all we could fit.

“Give me a sec, mate. I'm working on it...” A grunt and the tree moved about six inches forward.

I stifled a laugh. “Yeah, like that's going to help. You do realize that someone is going to have to repaint all the finish you're taking off, right?”

He grinned, showing perhaps just a flash too much fang. “Sure, mate, but it ain't going to be me. And I ain't going to be the one picking up all the pine needles either!”



Another half hour and we finally decided that the tree wasn't going to fit. Well, I say 'we', but it was Pine who at last came out and calmly explained to the lion that there was no physical way he was going to get that thing through the door, likely so much as up to the third floor.

Then, when a calm and rational explanation completely failed to penetrate the lion's skull, the police dog threated to call in reinforcements and have the tree turned to mulch if he didn't get it out of here.

Was it wrong that I spent the whole conversation between the two of them sitting on my tail laughing?



I've seen English, happy, I've seen his bawling his eyes out, and I've seen his pissed. Right now he was pissed, and the fact he was pissed while wearing a Santa hat with the pom-pom hanging jauntily down in front of one eye made the moment just short of priceless.

“Who,” he snarled, while balancing what appeared to be an impossibly large tree on his shoulder, “Decided that Christmas was canaled this year?”

I just sighed and followed in his footsteps. The road to his house hadn't been cleared since the last snow and it was nearly up to my knees. He trudged through it as though it wasn't even there.

I fought to hold my tongue as he'd already gone through this speech a dozen times already, but I just couldn't help myself. “It's not that bad, buddy. You're overreacting.”

All of a sudden I was very, very glad the lion was weighed down with his half ton tree. Even the mere whip of his tail back and forth was nearly enough to send me face first into a snowbank. “It's Christmas! People are supposed to be happy!”

At that I had to stifle a laugh. “Yeah? You don't seem to be too happy, yourself. I thought this was supposed to be the season of being thankful and spending time with family. As far as I can see it's just the two of us out in the middle of nowhere, trudging am overpriced piece of pine-scented firewood about.”

Half a heartbeat there was the sound of splintering branches as he threw the tree to the side of the road.

“Seriously, Mate? You're not even on my side?”

Picking a seat carefully, I aimed my rear end for a branch that was relatively free of needles. “It's not like that, buddy. It's Christmas. We're got you, me, Rebecca, Ging, Beth, even Jon should be stopping by sometime. That's all that matters, right?”

He let out a snort. “Sure, Mate. If you say so. I just want... I just want this to be special. With all our years together we've never really had a Christmas. The first time we were out at Horseshoe Bay, then you were too busy being Mayor, Then Brian. This is the kid's first Christmas and I wanted it...” He paused, reaching for the thin air as if trying to pluck his words from the clear blue sky itself.

“Wanted it to be what you never had?” I asked.

He sighed, a soft smile slipping to his lips. “You hit it on the head, Mate. It doesn't snow much in Africa.”

I snorted.

His smile widened. “Okay, so it's didn't snow much in my little bit of Africa. So sue me for wanting the kind of Christmas they show in the magazines and greeting cards. Is it too much to ask to have us all gathered around a Christmas tree, a roaring fire off to the side, and the little ones opening presents?”

I just let out a sigh and scooted closer to him. He'd sat down beside me, causing the tree to let out an ominous groan. I threw an arm over his shoulder.

“As long was we're together, buddy.”

I looked up. A single snowflake fell from the clear sky to land on the tip of my nose.



We managed to come to a deal not long after. Well, I say deal but it was mostly English telling me what he was going to do and threatening me with a surprisingly wide array of holiday themed harm if I didn't go along with him. I will say it's the first time I've ever had someone threaten to drown me in a vat of eggnog before.

And that's how, twenty hours later, Rebecca and I had the kids bundled up in snowsuits larger than they were, as we trudged slowly towards where I was sure the lion's house had to be.

You remember how I mentioned the sky was clear save for a single snowflake? Yeah, looks like it had called in all it's family. It wasn't long past noon and it was pitch black out, an extra foot of snow, and winds strong enough to rip my tail off.

“When I see that lion...” Rebecca mumbled from behind her scarf, “I'll throw him in a snowbank for this.”

I just shook my head. A winter coat did have it's advantages. I was chilly, don't get me wrong, but I wasn't doing too poorly. Rebeca and the kids, however... well, at least they should be warm with all that.

“You're telling me,” I replied as we took the final turn off to his house. One more strand of trees and we should be able to see it. “Jon got this one right. Being Police Commissioner he has to attend the Policeman's Ball. And he was smart enough to have it downtown.”

A yip escaped my lips as I took one step too far and all but fell off the path. The way to English's house was solid enough, but the moment you stepped off the path you had an extra three feet of snow to deal with.

“You be careful, wolfy,” Rebecca said with a grin. “I may just have to hook you up to the front of a sled to get back.”

I grinned back, showing just the shadow of a fang. “Why, Babe, I never knew you were into that...”



The walk up English's front lawn should have taken about five minutes. It's been at least half an hour.

We can see the warm glow of his front lights, he even set a candle in the window for us of all things, but they seemed to remain dawgedly distant no matter how hard we struggled.

My repeated – and admittedly rather loud – cursing must have been enough to break through the storm, for eventually the front door was opened to throw an arc of light into the dark and snow. For just a moment the lion stood there, backlit by gold, his pelt shining and perfect, mane a halo around his head.

He reached down to us, extending a single hand to where we struggled in the snow.



He all but carried us into his home like we weighed nothing. Me over one shoulder, Rebecca the other, and the kids hardly even seemed to register. Though the very fist thing he did after kicking the door closed was to check on them.

“How are the scamps tonight?” he asked, a grin to his face as he carefully unwrapped them from the yards of cloth we'd wound them in. Reaching forward, he tickled their noses with the tip of one razor sharp claw. The kids only laughed, each reaching out in turn and trying to grab his finger. They were with their uncle now, nowhere safer they could be.

Brushing the snow from my fur, I left a good pile at least a half a foot deep in front of the door. It was already starting to met. You knew this was a well designed home when it had holes in the floor just to catch the runoff in situations just like this.

Reaching out, I helped Rebecca from her coat. And, incidentally, gave her a moment to pick her jaw up off the floor. I'd had the benefit of knowing first hand just how determined English was to get us set up with a traditional Christmas. Rebecca hadn't had that luxury.

The lion's house was normally a stark white. He kept it that way on purpose. Clean, efficient, and void of even the slightest hint of who truly lived here, he could pick up and leave on a moment's notice, needing only a single backpack's worth of belongings to start over fresh once more.

Now... it looked like a department store had exploded in here.

While I wouldn't call it tacky, it certainly was garnish. Red and green decorations seemed to cover every available surface, and there had to be enough depictions of Santa, the jolly old polar bear, to make a shrine. I snorted, Rebecca stood slack jawed, and the kids went wide eyed in joy.

They may not be one-hundred percent walking yet, but there was no question they could move. In the drop of a hat Beth was under the Christmas tree, making a beeline for the presents, and Ging was halfway into the kitchen, following his nose to the scent of turkey.

“So, Mate, what do you think?” English asked, throwing one arm over my shoulder.

I just blinked. “You did this... all? In just four hours?”

His grin widened. “Nah. But I did haul it all out here and set it up. It's amazing what you can get this time of year. All you have to do I wave around a big enough wad of bills and people will sell you just about anything on short notice. Even the last, best, turkey in the shop.” He paused for a moment to take in a deep breath. “Then just run it past the kitchens in Hotel Vancouver and they're happy to whip it into the perfect Christmas dinner once you give them the proper incentive.”

“Though,” he added, “I looked high and low for a proper set of British Christmas crackers. Ahh well, guess one can't have everything.”

A soft pressure against the small of my back and he urged Rebecca and I forward to the nearby couch. Even it had a thick, warm red wool blanked thrown across it.

“He did all this for us?” Rebecca whispered.

I shook my head, stifling a laugh. “Not quite, Babe. I think we're just along for the ride on this one.” I glanced back to Ging and Beth. Somehow English had managed to distract them both with candy canes.



An hour in and we were all seated around the tree with glasses of apple cider. The kids were still having a blast, but I could see English was starting to look distinctly uncomfortable. That, and I was starting to wonder when we'd be getting our hands on dinner.

“He's supposed to be here,” the cat grumbled.

My ears perked. “Who?”

He paused for a long moment before glancing over sheepishly. “The... uh.... woof. He promised he'd be here.”

I'll admit my tail began to wag. “You invited Jon? Seriously?”

The lion grinned. For just a moment the firelight reflected off his golden pelt, highlighting the silver strands that ran through it. He was every inch the indulgent grandfather figure he so fought to project.

“Uh... yeah, Mate. You're supposed to spend Christmas with those who are closest to you, eh?”



A glance out the window and I had serious doubts Jon would be making it. It's been another hour and the storm had only gotten worse. I couldn't even see out to the road, and the lights of V-town in the distance might just as well be a continent away.

“I'm sure he's alright, wolfy,” Rebecca said from beside me. “He's too smart to get caught out in this weather. He's likely back in the city, never having left his office.”

I touched the pad of one of my fingers to the cold glass. “I hope you're right, Babe.”

“Come on,” English called from behind us, “The food is getting cold!”

There was the sound of popping bones and ripping flesh as he began tearing the turkey apart with his bare claws.



I don't think I could move if my life depended on it. Seriously.

It's a good thing I don't wear pants, as any buttons would long ago have popped. I'm no more than one-fifty at the best of times, and I think I must have gained at least another twenty-five pounds.

And that was before desert.

“You know, Mate,” English said, leaning back, hands over his bulging golden belly, “I may just have to find out how much that cook is making and offer him double.” He glanced over to me, long pink tongue running across his black lips. “Though... if I did I'd have to get out of the business. I won't be chasing many folks down with a gut like this.” He gave it a slap as Rebecca giggled.



The kids had been put to bed hours ago, and now we were hitting the sheets too.

English's guest room had become all but a second home to us years ago. It didn't even feel odd to be sleeping here, warm and safe as the storm howled an off-key note outside.

“Are you okay, wolfy?” Rebecca asked, stepping up behind me as I stood before the window, looking out into the sea of white.

“Yeah, Babe, just thinking about Jon.”

She snuggled closer, her bare skin pressing against my soft coat. I could feel her shiver.

“I'm sure he's fine. Like you said, I can't imagine the force would even let him out of the city.”

“Yeah, Babe.”

She went to bed, but I stood there, staring out into the snow until I could hardly stand. Only then did I lay down beside her, wrapping myself around her warm body.



“Christmas!”

Well, it's wasn't the kids' first word, but it was close. They knew what was going on.

“Come on, you two,” I said, lifting them up, one on each shoulder. “Let's see the Santa brought.”

“Yes,” came a dry and clipped voice from just down the stairs, “Santa had quite a hard time getting out here this year...”


Don't worry, next week we'll be back to our regularly scheduled depressing plot line!
Merry Christmas, everyone.