This story was originally published on Dec. 22, 1986
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'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not a rat or a mouse.
They all knew better, 'cause the dogs and the cats,
Were very light sleepers and chased mice and rats.
We were all sleeping, my family and me,
And the presents were waiting out under the tree,
When suddenly the telephone raised such a clatter,
I sat up and grabbed it and said "Now what's the matter?"
It seemed that a traveler just passing through town,
Had a very lame reindeer - he was sort of broke down.
"I hate to get you out, but I've a long way to go,
Hope you understand." Then he said "Ho, Ho, Ho."
My mind was still foggy as I climbed in my truck,
And started down the road to where the stranger was stuck.
I've read about "the moon on the new fallen snow"
And the "luster of midday," but one thing I know,
Any poet that would write about winter so nice,
Never pulled a calf in the snow and the ice!
Ten miles out on the Peola road,
I came to where the traveler was stuck with his load.
He was out in a stubblefield, on the Weatherly spread,
With eight tiny reindeer, hitched to his sled.
And the one on the left, in the lead reindeer pair,
Was standing three legged, with a hoof in the air.
My brain was finally coming awake,
And I stared at the driver and said "Goodness sake!
I know who you are - you're Jolly Saint Nick!
I should've known when I heard that a reindeer was sick."
He laughed and admitted that he was the same,
And then said "Let's look at my reindeer that's lame."
His elbow felt normal and so did his knee,
And the ankle looked good, from what I could see,
But I squeezed on his foot and he gave out a groan,
And from 'twixt his toes I pulled out a stone.
I rubbed on the spot just to help ease the ache,
And then to say "thanks" his bells he did shake.
"Your reindeer's all fixed." I said with a grin.
"So you can get back on your journey again."
With a wink of his eye and a nod of his head,
He spoke not a word, but jumped back in his sled.
I stood in the cold of the December night,
And watched them take off and fly out of sight.
And I think that he said, but I couldn't be sure,
"Merry Christmas to you, Doc, and thanks for the cure!"
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Roen is a retired Clarkston veterinarian whose columns were published weekly in the Lewiston Tribune for more than 30 years. He may be contacted at jazzvet@cableone.net.
