Vixen’s Vet

Adrian Gibb

A little old man, in a village so dear
With eyesight so dim and struggling to hear
Smiles a smug smile as the carols do sound
And the tree lights cast shadows on the rug-covered ground
For he knew it was he, though it has been many a year
That saved Christmas Eve and saved Christmas cheer

He was asleep at the time, when the knocks first came
A panicked stress-filled rapping on the door and window frame
As a young country Vet, these things weren’t so rare
Many sought his help and his expert animal care
But his crusty tired eyes shot wide with a flick
When he opened the surgery door, and greeted old Saint Nick!

“I am sorry to disturb you,” said Santa in a hush
“But my Reindeer is very ill and I am in somewhat of a rush!”
With that he brought in Vixen, her red collar declared her name
But instead of yuletide energy, her head hung limp and lame
The Vet quickly grabbed her, and took her round the back
Where he placed her on a table where she lay so sick and slack

“Are – are you really Santa?” asked the Vet while staying calm
And checking over Vixen for signs to cause alarm
“Yes I am, Tommy”, he said with a booming voice
“And I know you are wondering why you are my current choice.”
“Of all the Vets around here, your name was my reprieve,”
“For no other grown up still chooses to believe!”

The young Vet hadn’t been called Tommy in years
And he struggled to keep examining through prideful happy tears
For years he had almost weakened, but determined to stay strong
It is easy to forget Santa, when Tommy becomes Tom
And he knew he had to help the man he continued to adore
And return the loving trust that made him seek his hardwood door

“Did she eat anything unusual?” he asked Santa straight
“Is there anything you have seen that can explain this sorry state?”
“No nothing!” Santa said with a sad shake of his beard
“We stopped in some woodland and then poor Vixen reared!”
“And began to fall downwards, she was spiralling for the ground!”
“And the other coursers just saved her as my heart began to pound!”

The young Vet could see nothing, and Vixen’s heart seemed sound and clear
Her temperature was rising though, when he checked it through her ear
And all the other signs could not explain this faint
And he almost shouted his panic, but showed some good restraint
And the only sounds he heard as he pondered and took stock
Were the pacing Santa’s boots, and the ticking of the clock

And as the minutes passed, and all theories began to fade
Tommy went almost red as he tried to save the day
What could be causing this, this sudden and awful collapse
And the ticking of the clock sounded time’s awful lapse
Tick tick tick, “Make it stop!” was Tommy’s plea
But then, by all that is holy, the ticking is the key!

The Vet jumped up and set to work, searching Vixen’s skin
Not an inch of that magical body did Tommy not carefully skim
Until, with a sigh of happiness, he reached into Vixen’s fur
And pulled a small black insect from her ear which caused a stir
Then he quickly got some medicine, and gave a jab or two
And it only took a minute for the reindeer to come to

She jumped and nudged old Santa, who stood in sheer delight
And let out a whoop and holler in the crisp clear Christmas night
“When you stopped in the woodland”, Tommy happily explained
“Vixen picked up a tick from the dry wooden plain!”
“So I just had to remove it and save her from infection,”
“And your reindeer is now the same again, thanks to a small injection!”

“Tommy I don’t know what to say, I don’t know what to do!”
“You have saved my dear friend’s life, and saved this Christmas too!”
“No,” Tommy said, “Please let me speak tonight,”
“Santa, you fail to see the truth, you fail to see the light!”
“All my life I have believed, and I want to dance with glee,”
“But not because I believed in you, but because you believed in me!”

And Vixen sauntered over, and licked young Tommy’s hand
And Santa clomped his boots to where the Vet did stand
“You have taught me something young man, this lovely Christmas Eve,”
“You have taught me how important it is for all of us to believe!”
And with that Santa shook his hand, and clicked at Vixen with his tongue
And away he flew into the night, his work was far from done.

And so a little old man, in a village so dear
With eyesight so dim and struggling to hear
Smiles a smug smile as the carols do sound
And the tree lights cast shadows on the rug-covered ground
And his Christmas just gets better, with a voice just like a song,
Bounding up beside him, “Merry Christmas Grandpa Tom!”