‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,
A creature was stirring … but it wasn’t a mouse.
A sweet little pit bull, all shiny and black,
Was anxiously waiting for the man with the sack.
Santa, she’d heard, delivered treats from his bag.
To dogs who were good, with their tails all a wag.
So Hope settled down on the couch, by the tree.
Excited and eager… How fun this would be!
While visions of liver snaps danced in her head,
Hope was happy, this night, to stay out of her bed.
She promised herself she would not sleep a wink,
But the cushions so soft…. her head started to sink.
That warm sleepy feeling spread down to her toes,
And before she could stop it, Hope started to doze.
Then suddenly something created a clatter.
Hope snapped up her head to see what was the matter.
She wriggled with joy to see who had appeared.
It was Santa himself, with a white fluffy beard.
He busied himself with his bag full of booty,
Laying out gifts and completing his duty.
Hope tried to be still as she watched him at work,
But he heard a small thump, and he turned with a jerk.
“What was that noise?” Santa thought, and looked down.
Before him, he noticed the dog…. then he frowned.
His frown was just slight, and it didn’t last long.
But the feelings that struck him were surprisingly strong.
The sight of this dog made him stop and take pause,
For compassion came quickly to good Santa Claus.
This little black pit bull was ragged and tattered.
Scarred with old wounds from the years she’d been battered.
She was missing a leg, in the front, on the left.
So sad was the sight, St. Nick almost wept.
But despite all her scars and the story they told.
The little dog sat with a smile, pure as gold.
And the thump Santa heard, he guessed without fail,
Was the sound from the little dog wagging her tail.
His frown was soon melted by a big jolly grin.
Santa reached down and scratched the dog’s chin.
He lowered himself on his knees with a plop,
While Hope got excited and started to hop.
“What a sweet little creature,” he said with great care.
As Hope gave him kisses, while snuffly his hair.
Where her leg had once been, there was now just a stump.
Though it didn’t impede any leap, nor a jump.
Still Santa felt bad and said, “Poor little thing.”
But Hope didn’t mind her small chicken wing.
She seemed very happy and loaded with cheer.
St. Nick was amazed by this sweet little dear.
For all she’d been through, that took such a toll.
Hope had no malice, nor hate in her soul.
Santa got up off the floor from his knees.
And asked the small dog what present would please.
“Dear Santa,” said Hope, “I hear you’re a saint.”
“I’m always so hungry. It’s my only complaint.”
“So if you have treats in your sack, dear St. Nick.”
“I would love something yummy and scrumptious to lick.”
“You look quite well fed,” laughed the jolly old elf.
“You just can’t get fat and look like myself!”
But Santa reached down in his sack with a groan,
And pulled out a luscious, and beefy good bone.
He then asked the pit bull what else she might need.
But Hope was content. She did not know greed.
Hope was ecstatic… what glorious fare!
But she paused and looked up, “One more gift, if I dare.”
Santa was happy to give all that she wanted.
Her eyes were beseeching, and a tiny bit haunted.
“Think of the pit bulls ’round the world as you roam.”
“Please pray for justice, and find them good homes.”
With a tear in his eye, Santa patted her head.
Hope picked up her bone, and ran off to bed.
He thought it amazing, as his sleigh flew above,
What a small tattered dog could teach about love.
Hope was all settled in bed with great joy.
A big yummy bone she was set to destroy.
And she heard Santa call as she started to nibble.
“Merry Christmas to all, especially the pibbles!”
