December 7

Jiggers Journal, Part 7

“Santa!” we screamed.

We joined hands – actually hands joined paws – and we began to dance around excitedly. We had found him at last. My mission was back on. Leroy got so excited he began to sing Jingle Bells, so I joined in. I sang Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. I hate the way humans feel they all should sing the same song when they join in. Much more fun to sing your own song as loud as you can, and not sing the other person's song at all. The words jumbled, the notes jumbled, and it sounded great. To an elf, at least.

We jumped while we danced, and we danced while we jumped, and then my leg landed on nothing, and I nearly fell off the turret and into the air. Leroy steadied me and we both laughed. It was a close escape, so we had to celebrate the fact that I hadn't fallen off the high wall to my death. So we jumped and danced some more, then danced and jumped some more. Then Leroy almost fell off the wall, and this time we thought it might be a good idea to jump down from the wall to the safe floor and do our dance there.

When we had done enough dancing to give us both sore feet we decided it was time to climb down the stairs and go off in search of Santa. So off we set.

“I think I can carry you,” said Leroy.

He got down on all fours, and I jumped onto his back.

“You're heavy,” he said. “I don't think I can carry you.”

But he tried. He began bounding down the stairs, taking them two or three at a time, sometimes jumping over people who were trying to come up to the top. I held on for dear life, gripping the back of his collar so that I wouldn't fall off and go bouncing down the stairs. Leroy barked the whole time, and we made a delightfully mad spectacle.

We ran right out the big wooden door and down the stairs to the street and Leroy just kept running. Then suddenly he stopped and sat down, right in the middle of a big puddle. But he stopped so suddenly that I went flying, landing upside down in a small tree. At least I think I was upside down, because my head was pointing towards the ground and my feet were stretching down towards the clouds. Then I began to slip.

I hit a branch and spun until I was right way around. I had my eyes closed for the fall – always a good idea. When I opened them I was staring right into the dark beady eyes of a big black bird – a raven. And there was another black feather sticking out of my boot.

“One of yours I presume,” I said to the bird.

“Not mine,” he answered. “It's a feather all right, but not from a bird.”

“It's from you-know-who,” I whispered.

“It must be,” he agreed.

“Who's you-know-who?” asked Leroy, still sitting in the puddle, wagging his silly tail.

“You know,” said the bird enigmatically. Then he turned to me.

“Would you like a hand down?”

“That's very kind of you,” I said.

“Well, you did give me a fine hat yesterday,” he replied.

I looked at him more carefully. It was the bird that had caught my hat when I was hanging off the wing mirror of the truck. I was glad to see him again. I looked up, and there was my hat, stuck in the branch of the tree and stuffed with twigs and moss.

“It makes a fine nest,” I said.

He grabbed me by my collar and opened his wings so suddenly I got a fright. Then he flapped his wings and we were flying. But he knew what he was doing, so I relaxed and enjoyed the brief flight. He let me down gently beside Leroy. Leroy growled softly, but I frowned at him and he stopped.

“This is a friend,” I explained.

The raven looked at Leroy and said: “No time for tarrying. You better get on your way. You-know-who might be closer than you think.”

Leroy growled properly this time.

“For the one hundred and twenty seventh time, I don't know who you-know-who is.”

“That's right,” said the raven. “Never let on you know. Secrecy is important for the Santa Elf Service.”

“That's true,” I agreed. “Secrecy is the key to everything. I keep things so secret I don't even know who works for me.”

“Then how can you run the service?” asked Leroy.

“The dog makes a good point, for a dog,” said the raven.

And then we were off, bounding through the park. Faster and faster, and before you could shake a stick at a butterfly we were right in the middle of the village, at the long low stone building. There was still a big queue of people outside, most of them children with their parents. And there, near the front of the queue, was Kate with her mum and dad.

We raced up.

“Leroy,” she yelled. The dog leaped up and began to lick her face.

“You like me,” she said with delight.

“You've got chocolate sauce on your chin,” he replied.

They both laughed.

She bent down and picked me up. I didn't like it, but I was getting used to it.

“We're near the top of the queue,” she whispered to me. “In a few minutes it will be my turn, and you can come in with me and get your super secret instructions, or whatever you are here for.”

Just then her dad looked at her, then looked at me.

“I thought you said you had left that doll by the ticket counter?” he said.

“Oh daddy. You've got to keep up,” she replied with exasperation.