In general, I hope that every Montauk story can stand alone and complete. This breaks that mold, but should hopefully still be enjoyable to new readers. It's intended as a way to say thank you to the people who have been kind enough to stick with the series. Your reading, comments and emails are appreciated. There shouldn't be too much in here that is head-scratchingly confusing, but if there is, skip it and assume that it refers to something in one of the previous four stories. Siobhan is an Irish name and is pronounced Shivahn. She is also called Shiv by close friends and family or Daisy by her husband, niece and nephew.
There is no sex in this story.
Merry Christmas, and thank you for reading.
A Montauk Christmas
I laid on the floor near the tall opening, light streaming through the window, bathing me in delicious warmth. Drowsy, I rested. I dreamt of the Old Time in the First Place. Running with my brothers and sisters, I tugged the fur of their neck, tumbled with them and scrambled up, running again.
Always running.
I dreamt of when I was first given the cloth with His smells. Him, so strong of Him. A little of her. Faint, but there. They intertwined, and I knew they were together, a part of one another. They were giving me My Human and I knew His smell.
Traveling in a box, all who came showed me due respect. They didn't know my True Name, so they gave me small names. I was Boy and sometimes Good Boy. I let them touch my head and run their paw along my sides. They were good humans, but they weren't My Human.
She came for me. The one whose smell was with His. She had another with her and they both smelled of Him. They brought gifts, as was proper. Water and cookies. They displayed proper courtesy and I allowed them to touch my head and run their paws along my back. I was out of the box, with them, and we travelled faster than I could run.
We arrived, and His smells were everywhere. Joyously, I yelled. They were startled and made the odd sounds they often uttered. I could smell their fear before it faded. They needn't fear, I was grateful. They had brought me to my Human.
He had all the smells, and He was tall and good. He was a Good Boy and we would become a pack. We lived together, and I protected Him. He had an extended pack that came to see us often. The one whose smell intertwined with his. A female litter-mate. Their sire and dam. Others. They all called me my small names. They were part of the pack and I would protect them. I was Good Boy. I was Buddy.
Not capable of true speech, they had their own primitive language. I learned their yelping for Food, Water, Here, Snack, Cookie and Dinner. I learned His name. It had the same magic in it that I was made of. I would hear it, always, no matter how faint, and I would look. Was He there? Was He safe? Did I need to protect Him? It was an Eternal Name, strong and true. He was Finn, and He belonged to me.
Finn revealed my Eternal Name. I was Dink and this was my pack. May your ancestors protect and forgive you if you threatened my pack, because I wouldn't. There would be enmity between me and any that wished my pack harm, and none would stand before Dink. They would fall, and I would protect my pack.
Almost all were Good Boys. I had to warn a few. Finn was my Good Boy. Don't growl at Finn. Primitive speech towards Finn. Touch Finn. Be Good Boys. But I watched. Always watched. If they weren't Good Boys, I told them "Back! No!"
She came. She smelled like the other, the one whose smell intertwined with his. She was a Very Good Boy. She had a True Name: Jennifer. Soon, I heard her name whenever it was spoken, too. I'd lift my head and look. Jennifer here? Jennifer safe? She was close pack.
The old one left. The one whose smell I first found with His. She was Very Good Boy. I felt what He felt. I lay at His side and shared His pain. I took it from Him and carried it. She was gone, but Jennifer was here.
Dink grew large. Time passed. I was confused-happy. A small-tiny-weak pup joined our pack. Finn was mine. He was my human, but I knew, deep in me I knew that this pup was Best Good Boy. He was mine too. His Eternal Name was William, and He was mine.
A Bad Boy came. He hurt my pack. He entered the home. He hunted my William. I didn't say, "No!" I didn't say, "Bad!". No talk. Kill. Protect. I attacked. Pushed him from home. Kept him from my William. I bit, I pulled, and its hot blood bathed my jaws. It bit me with the tooth in its hand. Again, and again. My jaws sunk into its neck. I yanked, I shook it. It pulled free and ran to the water, trailing blood. I followed, slowly, my blood mingling with his.
Lying on the ground, I wondered about my Finn. Where was Finn? Where was my pack? There was other blood. Inside home, outside home, so much blood. My Jennifer was beside me. Stroking me, she said "Good Boy. Good Boy, Dink. William safe," she said. "William safe." He reached his paw to me and I smelled him. I licked his hand. My William was safe. I slept.
My Finn hurt. Others of pack gone. Finn's litter-mate gone but came back. I felt Finn's feelings and I lay next to him and shared his pain, my head on his flank. There was too much pain to carry. I lifted some.
Finn grew strong and none threatened pack. William grew. My Jennifer left. Returned sick. I lay at her side, let her run her hand along my back, scratch my ear. I licked her hand, pushed my head into her arm. Jennifer lay still for too long. Jennifer sick, but Dink here. Rest, Jennifer. Dink protect.
A new pup. Small-tiny-weak. Female. The pup smelled of William, Jennifer and Finn. She was Good Boy. She was of the pack. She was my Cynthia. I protected Cynthia. I laid on the ground in front of her, feeling the warmth from the window, drowsy. Voices. Jennifer and Finn's litter-mate. Little yips and barks trying to speak. They stood in the tall opening.
I lifted my head. Cynthia safe? Yes, Cynthia safe. I slept in the delicious warmth.
* * * * *
Jen and Shiv stood at the doorway looking down at Dink and then at the crib. Shiv smiled, "She's getting too big for that thing."
Jennifer leaned against the door jamb and enunciated carefully, ensuring she didn't slur her words. "Yeah, we're going to have to get her out of that hideous crib and into her own bed. Thirty months is too old. She's climbing out like she's Houdini."
"Heh. Hideous. The most beautiful hideous crib around. You're going to bawl your eyes out when she moves to a bed."
The crib had been built by their husbands, Finn and Tommy. While neither was handy with tools, each was excited to create something for Finn's daughter. Both of their fathers came by to help, and Finn's security personnel lent a hand and drank some beer when their shifts were over. It was a labor of love that took weeks and countless hours from men with more passion than skill. YouTube was a tremendous resource.
The crib was solid. That was the best that could be said for it. Solid, and crafted with love. Jen would run her stiff right hand over the wood, look into her daughter's eyes that were so like Finn's, and have to hold back her tears.
The remnants of the stroke were still there, but she wouldn't trade the life she led for anything. It was a price she had paid willingly and would do so again to save her family. William and Cynthia were the center of her being, and her love for Finn and his for her were akin to what was found in fairy tales.
"You know I'm taking it, right? As soon as my niece is in a bed, I'm grabbing the crib."
