Every year since 1990-something, I've written an Acton Christmas story for my holiday letter. The story is "creative" nonfiction. Some of the events happened, but mostly it's a story. Here is this year's, based on the runaway antics of our shelter dog, Sara.

                           An Acton Christmas - 2018:  "Runaway Christmas"

In the Acton home, Mom was feeling the pressure of Christmas. There were always so many things she needed to do: paint each fingernail with a different holiday design, read all the books she was giving before she wrapped them – and those were just the important jobs. This year even the minor jobs like shopping and decorating were complicated. This year everything had changed – all because of Sara. Mom and Dad had a dog!

Brennan was the first to notice the changes when he came home for Christmas. He called Mom’s phone from the driveway. “How am I supposed to get in the house?” he asked. “The dog pen is blocking the door.”

“You’ll have to park on the street and come in the front door,” Mom said. “We can’t take the pen down, or Sara might run away again.” This was Mom’s greatest fear. Their new dog had first run away in July on the night she was adopted. After searching for five weeks around the perimeter of Gladbrook, they finally lured her into the backyard with cat food, tuna, and KFC original recipe. Dad had built a large pen, connecting the house and garage, with a gate that could be secretly pulled shut from the backyard. They caught her in his perfect trap, and Sara began adjusting to life inside the Acton home. That is, until the second time she escaped, 40 days later. Dad had taken down one side of the pen for a furnace delivery, and Mom had been careless with the leash. That time Sara was gone for 27 days.  If she hadn’t fallen into a grain pit in Holland, 19 miles north, she would probably still be running free. Dad immediately put the missing wall back on the pen, and they began using a harness and a collar, with a heavy-duty hook connecting the two.

Now the phone was ringing again. “Mom,” Brennan complained, “you have to unlock the front door!” Since the family hadn’t used the front door since move-in day in 1995, this was not surprising.

“Why didn’t you ring the doorbell?” she asked, as she greeted her only son.

 “When was the last time you answered the doorbell?” he asked astutely.

“Good point.” She grinned. “Anyway, I’m glad I was here, since your father doesn’t answer the phone.”

When the rest of the family arrived, Erica and Tara also noticed the changes in the Christmas routine, even before Lucas ran off to Dad’s shop to build a few weapons from scrap wood. “Where are all your Santa figures?” Erica asked. “And the poinsettias?”

“Your mother thinks the dog will be afraid of them,” Dad said.

“Sara is still adjusting,” Mom explained. “She wouldn’t come in the living room after we put up the tree, so I stopped decorating then.”

“Oh, the poor little dog!” Tara said sympathetically. “I’m sure Darcy and Indy will break her in quickly.” The girls’ dogs were more outgoing than Sara and already knew their way around the house from one trash can to another.

“Everything has been a little complicated with Sara,” Mom said. “Truthfully, I haven’t had time for decorating or baking or…” She took a deep breath. “Shopping.”

Everyone stared at her. Even Dad looked alarmed. If Mom didn’t go Christmas shopping, where would the presents come from?

“But, Mom,” Tara protested. “You’re retired! You have plenty of time to dedicate yourself to making our Christmas wishes come true.”

Her siblings agreed. Erica, the expert, said, “That is ridiculous, Mom. There is always time for shopping.”

Cory rolled his eyes but wisely said nothing.

“What about online shopping?” Tara asked, “You’re so good at that.”

Erica added, “Plus, it isn’t like real money; it’s all virtual.”

 “Listen, Mom,” Brennan said urgently, “I count on your Christmas presents to keep me up to date with expensive technology.” He added generously, “Even your boring gifts aren’t terrible.”

Mom tried to explain. “I’ve been hanging out with the dog, and time just ran away from me. We’re bonding.”

There was silence as everyone took in the news. Even Bill looked up from his iPad. Could it be true? Mom ran out of time for all the Christmas essentials? Was Christmas ruined?

Suddenly the only one who could save the day – the only one who understood the heart of the problem, the only one who saw the solution – spoke. “But what about Lucas?” Dad asked quietly.

Mom looked at him. “Lucas?”

Dad repeated, “What about presents for Lucas?”

Mom perked up. “You’re right! Lucas needs presents! He needs Christmas cookies and cherry pie and stockings on the fireplace. . . and lots of presents!” She grabbed her credit cards, which were always nearby. “Kids, send me your Wish Lists right now. I can order your gifts while I’m shopping for Lucas. I’ll ask for overnight shipping. How expensive can that be?”

“You’re a genius, Dad,” Brennan said.

Dad smiled modestly. Usually, Mom was like a runaway train at Christmas. All he did was set her on the right track again. Plus, he’d do almost anything not to go Christmas shopping.

                  Merry Christmas from Patrick and April Acton. . . 

                             and our little runaway, Sara