December 23rd, 1969

It was two nights before Christmas and all through the Chan house, everyone was in a frenzy trying to get things ready for Christmas Eve. The older kids were hanging lights and garlands while the twins helped their father prepare tins of cookies for the mailman and the paper boy. The little kids were in the living room, finishing their letters to Santa, when Flip suddenly looked up.

"Hey, Mom!" he said. "What about Chu-Chu?" His mother looked up from her needlepoint with a curious smile, glancing towards the corner where the family's newest addition lay contentedly chewing on a bone. Pop had taken them to the pound a year ago to get a puppy after the folks decided Scooter was big enough for them to have a pet.

"What about him?" Mom asked. Her face was pale and thin and her hands shook; Pop said it was from the cold, but the kids knew Mom was sick and on special medicines and things. She'd be just fine in time for Christmas, though, that's what they all kept saying.

"How's Santa gonna know what he wants for Christmas if he can't write a letter?" Flip asked. Mom laughed, shaking her head a little.

"Dear, Chu-Chu is a dog! Sometimes I think you children forget that," she said. Flip smiled sheepishly; she was kind of right. The kids loved Chu-Chu like another brother and they would always set a place for him at the table or let him sleep on their beds. Sometimes Pop even forgot and gave him an allowance like he did everyone else.

"Well, maybe a little," he said. "But dogs still deserve Christmas presents from Santa, right?"

"Yeah!" Nancy piped up. She was writing her letter in purple marker and had crossed out a lot of words. "Who's gonna write Chu-Chu's letter for him? And hang his stocking?"

"We got Chu-Chu a stocking?" Stanley poked his head in from the kitchen. "I didn't know that! Wait, since he's a dog shouldn't he have two?"

"Children," Mom said, laughing a little to hide a cough, "dogs don't need to write letters to Santa to get their presents."

"But then how's Santa gonna know what he wants?" Flip asked.

"Eh, dogs are easy to shop for," Stanley said. "Squeak toys, balls and bones aren't as complicated as whatever new Barbie Dolls or race cars are in the stores!" Mom smiled.

"Stanley's right, children. Santa knows just what Chu-Chu wants."

"But he still needs a stocking," Flip reminded her. "Or does Santa just leave the presents in his doggie bed?"

"Silly," Suzie said as she walked into the living room. "Dogs don't want to waste time emptying stockings. Santa's going to leave the presents in a little pile by his bed."

"Ohhh." Nancy smiled. "That makes sense!" She hugged the puppy, who'd taken a break from his bone. "Hear that, boy? You're gonna get lots and lots of goodies this year! It's gonna be your best Christmas ever!"

"It's going to be the best Christmas ever," Stanley said, moving to rest a hand on Mom's shoulder. "Right, Mom?"

Their mother smiled, even as she leaned against the back of her chair and set her needlepoint down in exhaustion.

"Of course it will."