The best magazine
We spent that night doing what most other boys and their dogs do, things like fighting Indians in the Old Wild West, slaying dragons, finding golden treasures to give to our mother so that she could buy chocolate chips and other stuff to make cookies, rescuing those who needed to be rescued, and so on.
The morning came much too quickly for us, but the snow had stopped, the sun was out, and the prospects for the day seemed.
As I threw back the covers on my bed, I could smell the ham that Mom was baking in the oven of her woodburning cook stove.
Hurrying down the stair steps, I hardly glanced at the tree, but instead focused on getting to the breakfast table to fill up Blackie and myself before we set out on our daily adventures.
Good old Mom, she must have gotten up before dawn for there was freshly baked bread already sliced, and a quart jar of strawberry jam sitting alongside a bowl of freshly churned butter.
What more could a young lad ask for? Blackie and I grabbed a couple of slices that Mom had already blessed with butter and jam, smiled our approval, then started to wolf them down.
Between and during bites I explained what I was going to do, and then Mother told me what I was going to do.
The grandfolks were going to drop by and my assistance was needed to help put things in order.
Things like setting the table and sweeping the floor - definitely not things any boy would like to be caught doing, but the tone in Mothers' voice said that I would simply love to help her.
And so I did.
Family get togethers are meaningless to a kid unless there are uncles doing magic tricks, or aunts handing out a dime or two, or some distant cousin that wants to do what you want to do and wants to do what you say.
This one was going to be boring, for none of the above would be happening that day and so one must generate his own excitement.
But now things were different, for at long last I had a friend, a true friend; I had my Blackie!
Source: ...