"The reindeer,” Mrs. Claus said, “are upset.”
“Ho, ho, ho,” Santa chuckled.
“They’re puzzled. Pawing the ground and making bewildered noises in their stalls.”
“As well they might,” Santa smiled. “I’ve told the Stables Short Person to let them loose to relax and wander a bit in their pasture.”
“Are you sure you’re doing the right thing?” Mrs. Claus asked uneasily.
“Of course. The man at North Pole Motors – motto, ‘Through Ice and Snow, You’ll Always Go!’ – convinced me I have to move with the times.”
Mrs. Claus glanced skeptically at the shiny new sleigh. “The reindeer have faithfully pulled your sleigh for eons. Always reliable.”
“Ah, but this snazzy new sleigh has it all. Quiet! Why, it’s all-electric. Power top and steering and adjustable seat. Two-runner drive. Heater. And a gentle horn to warn any stray stars to get out of the way.”
“Hmmm,” Mrs. Claus murmured, one of her most skeptical (and well-merited) “hmmms” – for she had saved Santa from many well-intended follies.
Excited, Santa didn’t hear. “And best of all, non-polluting! No more unpleasant reindeer leavings on the sky trail!”
“And how does this sleigh move without Dancer and Prancer and the rest pulling it?”
“The latest thing, my dear. It’s powered by a lithium battery. Ah, I almost forget – headlights. No need for Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer! He can relax in his stall this Christmas Eve!”
“Well, that silly song about him always makes me cringe,” Mrs. Claus admitted. “Now, I’ve packed you an extra lunch.” She added: “In case you need it.”
Santa was deaf to her skepticism. “Thank you, my dear. I’m off!” And he gave Mrs. Claus a quick hug and sprang – agile, for such a plump creature – into the sleigh.
A turn of the key and the sleigh soared noiselessly into the sky. His reindeer in their pasture looked up – dejectedly, Santa would have noted, if he hadn’t been so thrilled by his new toy – at the speeding object.
What fun! He zipped around and about and high and low. He dived and banked and wrote “Merry Christmas!” in icy trails in the sky. At last he steered the sleigh toward the tiny dots of light where the first children on his route were sleeping.
And then Santa realized the sleigh was slowly losing altitude. He fiddled with the controls. No response. He hadn’t bothered to look at a gauge that was now showing zero. The sleigh sank quietly onto the great endless sheet of ice.
It was an embarrassed Santa who used his cellphone – he fidgeted till he found how it worked – to call his wife. He wished Rudolph were there, furnishing some useful and comforting light.
“No, the reindeer are all scattered and the Stables Short Person won’t be able to round them up and hitch them to the old sleigh in time,” Mrs. Claus said, leaning ever so lightly on the word “old” (she was a confirmed traditionalist, you won’t be surprised to learn). But her mind was already at work.
“What on earth shall I do?” Santa wailed, between bites of his second lunch.
“On earth, you won’t deliver your gifts tonight,” Mrs. Claus said pointedly, “unless you do something really innovative” (she leaned ever so lightly on “really” too, which you won’t be surprised to learn was her little jab at battery-driven sleighs).
“What can be done?” Santa moaned.
“I will contact Heaven,” Mrs. Claus declared, “and ask to borrow some dogs. They will pull your sleigh.”
“Dogs?” cried Santa. “Dogs in Heaven?”
“All dogs go to Heaven,” Mrs. Claus replied. “There’s a book about it. It’s only some very, very educated earthlings who don’t believe there even is a Heaven. Dogs know. When their kind owners arrive, their dogs run happily to reunite with them.”
She hung up – time was short. She contacted Heaven’s Friendly Pastures Guardian who in a twinkling furnished a cacophony of yapping, tussling, tail-chasing dogs. Some were chomping on squeaky toys. She and the Stables Short Person hitched them to the old sleigh – which seemed ecstatic to be back in service – and she drove to a relieved Santa.
Which is why, at the military post that tracks Santa’s progress through the north on their radar screens, they were astonished that a long string of dogs had replaced Dancer and Prancer and the other reindeer.
There was Teddy, and Queenie, and Chloe, and Geordie, and Homer, and Cole, and Fleury, and Dinky, and Gabby, and Pal, and Sam, and Boz, and Higgins, and Miracle, and Booker, and many, many more. Santa feared that the smallest ones wouldn’t be able to pull their share. But in Heaven as on earth the small may have the biggest hearts.
That night many children were awakened, and in the morning insisted they had heard barking on their rooftops. But their parents shook their heads. Adults are often deaf to what children hear.
And so Mrs. Claus saved Christmas. Checking the oven where her dreamily delicious Christmas cake was baking, she hummed her version of a song from long years ago:
“Aren’t women wonderful?
Aren’t women grand?
Aren’t they the rulers
Of Santa Claus Land?”
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