~Lochy_
I really didn't think we'd make it this far. Only a few short weeks ago, the prospect of a happy Christmas was the last thing on my mind. It was my fault, really, even though I couldn't have predicted the chain of events that would lead to this disaster.
As part of a rehabilitation regime set up by Fraiser and some of her Pediatric colleagues, Daniel had been given a puppy as part of the 'Pets as Therapy' program. The idea being that this little pup would help to bring Daniel out of the world his mind was locked in ever since he was downsized. He didn't talk, barely registered when any of us were in the room, and aside from the small pleasure he seemed to find in his history books, he never sought any form of human interaction.
The puppy had been a Godsend in that department. Called Lochy by his trainer, the white Labrador became an instant hit with Daniel almost the moment the program handlers walked him in the room. I'm told dogs are intuitive creatures that can pick out a child with a specific problem in a room full of otherwise healthy kids. I have to say, if I hadn't seen it first hand for myself, I never would have believed it. Lochy took one look at everyone in the room and took his handler for a walk straight to Daniel. At first there was no reaction, no instinct to reach out and pat the pooch even when Lochy had nuzzled Daniel's hand. My heart flipped sickeningly at the sight.
We'd reached a point with Daniel, that despite my protests of being able to care for him, people higher up had decided he'd be better off cared for in a specialized facility with other children. I think I made my distress at the prospect pretty clear in a petition lodged with Hammond, and despite his sympathetic stance, I knew I was waging a losing battle to common sense. This puppy was our last chance.
Lochy had taken Daniel's disinterest as a cue to try even harder, and with a tenderness I can't imagine was ever taught to him, the puppy dipped his muzzle under my kids chin and forced his attention upon him with a well placed lick. I tried to ignore Carter's when Daniel reached out and rested a hand on the dogs head. Her hushed "my God" was said with so much relief it nearly broke my heart.
So, while Daniel still wasn't that great at interacting with his human family, Lochy had moved into to our home and right into his heart. The two of them were very quickly inseparable. Lochy seemed to know what Daniel needed and showed more patience with his occasional bouts of frustration than I ever could have.
Speech was still a problem. We knew from Fraiser's carefully conducted exams that there was nothing wrong with Daniel's vocal chords or speech centre. He simply chose not to speak. Lochy tried his best, yapping at Daniel in a way that almost appeared as though he was trying to encourage a reaction. A few times, I caught Daniel's lips moving like he wanted to say something but couldn't quite find the words. He was so close.
And then the hand of Fate played her hand.
On a cold winter morning, barely weeks out from Christmas, I'd dragged myself out of bed to let Lochy outside when natured called. Normally, the pup could make it through the night, but whether it was the intense cold or perhaps Daniel had slipped him a little bit extra milk that he wasn't supposed to have, I don't know. But the pooch was insistent he had to go.
I let him out the door and parked my butt on the sofa while he did his thing. I couldn't have known though, and there was nothing in the nightly weather broadcast to warn us of an approaching storm. Sometime during the night, an intense snow storm had moved over the Springs and dumped more of the white stuff than we'd seen in years. I was blind to it. Eyes barely open, mind still in the realm of Morpheus, I let Lochy out the door without even noticing the mountainous snow drift that covered most of my yard.
Wrapping myself up in an afghan, I dozed until a thunderous crack had me virtually in flight. The noise definitely came from my yard, and throwing open the door; I was hit by the enormity of the storm. Little good it did poor Lochy though. He'd found the only patch of clean grass left in my yard to do his business on, only to have a giant elm drop one of his massive snow-locked branches on him.
I tried. I really did. My feet and hands turned a frightening shade blue before I had to give up trying to move the branch. Lochy was dead, his eyes bulging under the weight of the branch, tongue hanging frozen from his mouth. The snow around his head was dappled with blood, a testament to the force of the impact.
The sorrow in Daniel's eyes as we buried Lochy with his favorite basket blanket will forever haunt me. Even more heart rendering was the speed with which the small measure of improvement Lochy's companionship had given him, had been snatched away. The only bright candle in Daniel's otherwise dark existence had been extinguished, and our hopes right along with it.
As the days crept slowly by, Daniel retreated even further, and the Christmas social events we'd planned as a family, we tossed aside. Daniel's fate was once again tabled and we were back at the mercy of a social system I didn't think he belonged in.
As Christmas morning broke to crisp snow sparkling under an unseasonable warm sun, Carter and Teal'c arrived with armfuls of gifts and cheery smiles. Braver than me, they rousted our pint-sized bean from his bed with a promise of unimaginable delights and food enough to feed the whole SGC. I wanted nothing more than to curl up and ignore the day.
Daniel paid little attention to his gifts, his gaze lingering on the small patch of snow-covered earth where Lochy lay in enteral rest. What festive cheer there had been in this house was drained away along with the single tear that tracked its way down his cheek. I couldn't stand it. Toys and books pushed to one corner, good wishes and intentions shelved until they could be appreciated, I suggested Carter and Teal'c head to Fraiser's house for lunch without us.
Neither budged. Teal'c looked at his watch, a slow forming smile lighting his face when someone knocked at the door. Who the heck would be visiting at this hour? When I posed the question aloud, Carter shrugged and cocked her head in the direction of the front door. Teal'c suggested I answer it before my guests froze. He had a point.
Some moments are made to be treasured. Given to us at a time when all we have is despair and grief, they exist to give us hope.
Hope arrived in the form of Cleo, a short-stop of an English Staffy. Sable coat with a white saddle, she had the darkest chocolate brown eyes I've ever seen.
Told she was the smallest in her litter, she had the biggest heart, and wasted none of her attention on us adults, but sought out her small charge still curled up by the window. It was immediately clear that like Lochy, Cleo would not take no for an answer, and her tongue gave Daniel a Christmas morning kiss he'd never forget.
I'll never know how my team arranged this little Christmas delivery, and in some ways I don't want to know, but I'll be forever grateful to the Pets as Therapy team for giving us a second chance with another of their precious bundles.
And for giving our Daniel back his life.