| A Holiday Husky The one-dog sled race: A Christmas story By Patricia McFall Her name was Velocity, and she was as good as her name: the Husky puppy could run fast and far. But she couldn't make the cut for a dog sled team: The musher and the lead dog agreed that she had enough speed to be in the great Iditarod race, but she couldn't pull enough weight. Maybe next year, when she was bigger. "Who says I'm too little?" Velocity muttered to herself as she trotted past the end of the Iditarod Trail at Nome, Alaska, going due north. "I can't wait. I want to be part of a team this year." Then she had an idea. It was a long shot, but she knew that if she kept heading north, sooner or later she'd reach the North Pole. She laughed softly as she scampered over new-fallen drifts. Everybody knew who lived there: an old man with a big team. It was Christmas Eve, and it was snowing hard. Little Velocity couldn't see very well, but she had a good nose and caught a faint whiff of smoke to track. She broke into a run as the outline of a big building with smoke coming from its chimney came into view. That had to be Santa's workshop! With all the work Santa's family and his elves had to do, Velocity was sure they could use an extra set of paws, however small. This really was a workshop, with elves and presents and everything, even the big sleigh all her young Husky friends would be looking for in the sky that very night. This was the night everyone waited, planned and worked for all year. The huge conveyer belts had been running nonstop. They started at one end of the workshop with every newly made gift, from traditional ones like rocking horses, dolls, toy trains and stuffed animals to the latest video games and cell phones — and of course, there were gifts of food for hungry children, and blankets for those who were cold. As each gift came along the belt, elves quick-as-you-please cradled it in tissue paper or bubble wrap, found just the right box, and wrapped it carefully with colorful paper gleaming with bits of gold and silver, put on a big fat bow, and attached a "From Santa To —" tag with the child's name. As the piles of gifts fell into baskets, elves — who didn't trust computer scanners and liked to do things the way they always had — stood with clipboards and double checked everything, then loaded the gifts onto pallets, which driver elves brought to the staging area at the far end of the workshop, where the big sleigh sat waiting. Santa had a clean record for delivery on time to the right homes, and everybody worked hard to keep it that way. Elves did a last check on the destinations, being careful to load every present in just the right order to be personally taken to each and every house. The reindeer team was a built-in GPS system that never missed an address. It was a miracle, and it happened every year. Velocity kept barking as she watched a smiling elf wrap a teddy bear. She jumped up against the window and barked as loud as she could, and he turned to another elf who was helping him pull a length of shiny red ribbon off of a huge spool. He put his hand to his ear, pointed at the window, and said something, but the other one shook her head and shrugged. He held up his index finger to say Wait a minute, tossed aside the package, hopped off the stand next to the conveyer, slipped past a group of elves loading packages, went to the door, and opened it a crack. Velocity was waiting for him. "Well, look who's here! I thought I heard a dog bark. Hi, I'm Mario. What a fluffy little snowball — I can't tell where the snow ends and the puppy begins." He laughed and held the door open, but Velocity always shook herself before going inside. "Hey, shut that door!" cried an elf. "It's freezing out there!" But Mario was already letting Velocity inside, and it felt wonderful as he helped brush snow off her coat, petted her, and led her to the warm fireplace. From there, she got to watch as every last gift was packed and loaded. The minute Santa took off, Mrs. Claus, Santa's life partner and manager of production, started the elves with cleanup duty. The conveyers were shut down, and teams of elves who had been tasked with wrapping and ribbons switched to cleaning and maintenance, storage, records, and elfin resources. Mario led a troubleshooting team. True, they had never actually had any trouble to shoot, but everyone knows there's a first time for everything. Velocity stayed close to the fire and watched. Dog sleds don't have motors and snowmobiles aren't that big, so she had never seen so much machinery or heard so much clatter, chuff, hoot, squeal, click and finally, thunk. The carols still played, sounding even louder than before, and the elves continued to work at their new tasks with the same energy they d given to the gifts. Mario was checking a large chart on the wall with some others, and as Velocity looked at the motionless conveyer belt she saw something. She shot up the stairs and across the platform, looking to be sure. Yes! A gift had been left behind. It was wedged into a dark space between the belt and the huge basket the gifts dropped into, and nobody seemed to notice. Oh, no — it was the one Mario had tossed aside when he heard her bark. It was all her fault that it had been left behind — she had to tell him! She ran down the platform and began tugging at Mario's funny-looking shoe. He just laughed and patted her on the head. She took a deep breath and gave her most adult bark. That didn't work either. She had to get his attention, so she tugged his boot right off and ran away with it in her mouth, back up the stairs and down the platform, right in front of where the gift was. But just then, a big alarm went off and a big light started to flash, and all the elves stopped what they were doing and looked at over at the wall chart, where a speaker boomed out Santa's voice, "Hi, everybody. Now don't panic, but we're missing a teddy bear for a little girl named Lulu." Everyone said, "Oh, no!" and Mrs. Claus turned to Mario, the lead troubleshooter. He shouted: "Red and green alert! All elves to stations." He turned to the speaker, "We're checking, Santa — hold on!" As Velocity shook his shoe at him, he said, "Go away — I don't have time to play with you. This is terrible — I lost that present, and I need to find it. Now gimme my shoe!" Velocity whined and shook her head, and every time the elf grabbed for the shoe, she led him a few feet closer to the conveyer. Finally, she set the shoe down, and when Mario knelt to put it back on, he saw the package, which is exactly what she wanted. Her heart raced with excitement. "Santa, I've got it!" Mario shouted joyfully. "All clear!" Santa's voice boomed back, "Great!" Then there was a pause while he thought. "But we can't turn back for it now — we'd miss half the kids in South America if we did." Santa sighed. "We should have got that modern scanner tracker system, modernize," he said. "For now, you put on your thinking caps and call my cell with any ideas. Gotta go!" The speaker clicked off and the light stopped flashing. Now everybody stared at Mario, but he didn't seem to have an answer. Suddenly, Velocity had an inspiration. Near the fireplace, she d seen an old-fashioned sled that wasn't a gift, but something the elves hauled things around with outdoors, and she knew how she could use it. She ran to it, barked and grabbed the pull rope in her teeth, danced around, dropped it again to bark some more, then pulled the sled right up to the door. Didn't Mario get it? She was the speediest Husky of them all — and everybody knows that elves and teddy bears don't weigh much. At last he understood, his frown turning into a big smile, and he dashed over the sled with the package. He snapped something with sleigh bells around Velocity's neck. "This is the kind of collar we designed to help the reindeer fly," he told her. "Come on, let's see if it works for dogs." Mario shouted at the other elves, "Tell Santa we re going to try to catch up with him!" Velocity didn't know if she could, but she ran outside just as fast as her puppy legs would go. The sled moved lightly on the snow, and as she ran, breathing in the cold clean air, Velocity could hear the elves singing about how much fun it was to ride in a sled. Then she realized that the voices were coming from below, that she wasn't pushing through snow, and that running was much easier. Then it hit her: They were flying! Velocity and Mario were way up in the sky, looking down on the workshop lights in the middle of all that snow. She would have to fly really fast to get to Santa with the forgotten present, so she pushed herself just as fast as she could go. Soon, twinkling in the distance, she saw Santa's sleigh with the reindeer. It was far away, but Velocity ran and ran, just as she was born to do. Why, it was just possible that those young huskies down below were looking up to see a tiny sled gaining on the big sleigh. That made her run even faster. Mario cheered her on, yelling, "Look, it's getting closer! You re going to catch them!" As the sleigh got bigger and bigger, Velocity knew Mario was right. From that moment, the little husky knew the Iditarod could wait. She was on Santa's team now, and that's where she was meant to be. |
| Illustration by Raul Caracoza and Manny Amaya |
| She scratched politely at the door, as she'd been taught to do when she wanted to come inside, but nobody heard her. Small wonder, with those loud carols she could hear right through the door. She hurried over to a window and peered inside. Oh, what a sight! |
| Velocity started to bark so they would notice her: "Let me in, please. I want to join your team and help!" But none of the elves paid attention, because they were on deadline. |