The Christmas Flute

The Christmas Flute


Connor rushed into the house screaming, “Dad, Dad, Bucky’s gone.”

Bucky is a shelter dog. They told us he didn’t have a history. Everything was a maybe. Such as, maybe he’s a year old. Maybe he suffered a trauma. Maybe he was abused. But they did know he was found wondering on a long stretch of highway. Without any homes in the vicinity it seemed realistic someone just dumped him. My question: Who abandons a golden retriever pup?

With a story like that, Connor chose Bucky to be his forever friend. To say the least, Bucky came with a few challenges. He took to training rather well; however, he suffered moments of great anxiety. Connor would try to comfort him by hugging Bucky, but his fur friend just shuddered and hid under Connor’s bed.

Three things Bucky did like. The park, chasing rabbits, and Connor’s flute playing. We discovered Bucky’s love of music one day when Connor practiced in his room. Bucky bounded up the stairs and lay at Connor’s feet, calm as could be.

“Okay, son, let’s drive to the park and see if he went there.”

We pulled on our boots, zipped up our jackets, and hopped in the car. Connor called Bucky from the open window as snow flurries pelted the windshield. “Look at the snow, Dad. Bucky won’t know how to find his way home.” I could see his eyes watering with tears, and my heart went out to him.

“We’ll find him. Don’t worry.” I knew I shouldn’t make that promise, but helplessness crawled all over me.

We circled the park three times. We looked for his tracks in the snow. “He’s not here, dad. I want him here for Christmas tomorrow. His first Christmas with me.”

I felt heartsick, and then something occurred to me. It was a long shot, but heck I’d try anything to help my son. So I turned around and drove home.

“Where’re we going? We can’t quit yet,” wailed Connor.

“We are not quitting. You’ll see.”

“Are you calling the police?”

“No.” I pulled into the driveway. Let’s try something, but it’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“What dad?”

“Come with me.”

Inside the closet I pulled a gift-wrapped present. “This is your Christmas present.” I handed it to Connor.

“But, Dad we’re supposed to be looking for Bucky.” Tears slipped down his cheeks.

“I know, but this might help. Open it. This replaces the one your sister broke.”

“Dad, it’s a flute. Thank you, but how is this going to help Bucky?” Two seconds later, it clicked. “Great idea!” A smile replaced tears.

We walked together down the street, Connor playing his Christmas flute and I being the look-out.

Three minutes later Bucky came crashing through the Wilson’s shrubs and jumped all over Connor.

“It worked like magic,” he laughed as he rolled around in the snow with Bucky.

“Let’s get home and don’t tell mom.”


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