A Miracle at Macy’s: There’s only one dog who can save Christmas. Lynn Hulsman Marie

is as suspicious of Henry as I am.

      She loses her patience and quickly blurt out, “forgive me for being a buttinsky, but there’s something you’re not telling me. Out with it, already.”

      “Hudson has gone missing,” I whisper.

      She looks horrified and then Henry informs her briskly. “Here’s my card. If you hear anything from pet owners in the neighborhood, I’d appreciate it if you’d give me a call.”

      She takes the card without looking at Henry. “What happened, my Shayna Maidel?” she asks me. I feel a lump rise in my throat. “Was he stolen? You poor dear.”

      I shake my head no, pinching my lips together so I don’t cry. I don’t like to cry in front of people under the best of circumstances. I sure as hell wasn’t going to cry in front of Henry Wentworth of the Heavy Cardstock Wentworths. But Mrs. Rabinowitz’s eyes are wells of pure concern. I look away. There’s nothing worse when you’re trying not to cry than having someone be nice to you. “Talk to me. What happened?”

      “We’re not sure. He was last seen around Columbus Circle. He slipped away without his collar and tags,” Henry says.

      “Tsk, tsk, tsk. How long has he been gone?”

      “Not quite 24 hours,” Henry supplies. Mrs. Rabinowitz shakes her head and says a quiet string of what I think are Hebrew words, ending in A-meyn. She sighs a ragged sigh. “May God help the poor little thing. Lost in a big city such as this one.”

      Bustling over to the bulletin board on the wall with photographs of her furry customers, she zeroes in on one and pulls out the staple. Some of the pictures were brought in by the pets’ families; others were taken with the old Polaroid camera she keeps behind the desk.

      “Here, take this, and use it in health. She shoves a photo of herself clutching Huddie to her ample chest. Eyes at half-mast, he’s resting his head amongst her multiple chins and his face reflects pure bliss.

      “You could show this to the police, maybe?” Henry accepts the photo, and studies it. “We have a flyer to hand out. If you wouldn’t mind, Mrs. Rabinowitz, would you keep this here? To show your customers, and inquire about whether they’ve seen Hudson?”

      “Mind? Why should I mind? I love that scraggly little treasure like he’s my own!”

      I’m afraid an ugly sob might escape if I open my mouth, so I simply hand over one of the fliers made from the Elfie photo.

      “Look at the little boychik! Give me a stack of those. I’ll have my delivery boy, Sheldon, leave one behind with every order. Oy, my heart is going to break and fall out onto the floor,” she wails. “My dear,” she says to me, “tell me your name.”

      I take a deep breath. “It’s Charlotte,” I manage. There. No sob. Back on solid ground.

      “Listen to me, and listen to me good, Charlotte.” She cups my jaw with her hand and tilts my head, and looks me in the eye. “I’m saying this as a mother.” Her faded brown eyes start to blur as the tears pool. “There are people out there, not nice people, if you understand me. I hear all sorts from this one who rescues, and that one who works at a shelter. Enough said, am I right?”

      I nod.

      “We’re not going to let that happen to Hudson, kayn ayin hara,” she turns her head and spits through her fingers, “puh puh puh.”

      I shake my head no.

      “We have to find our boy, and find him fast. I’m going to get on the horn and phone every pet shop owner in the book and tell them to keep their ears to the ground. It’s good to have friends.” She pulls me into a squishy hug, and I stiffen in surprise. She’s having none of it. She squeezes tighter until I relax, then rubs my back. “Have faith, my Charlotte. Hope is needed most when times are the darkest. I know you’re not Jewish, and neither is Hudson, but Hashem watches over all of us.”

      My heart lifts in my chest. I almost believe that it’s all going to work out.

      “Now, what is the plan?” she asks Henry.

      Henry tacks the photo back up in its place on the board. “We’re headed back to where the dog escaped to retrace Charlotte’s steps.”

      She narrows her eyes. “Not the dog. His name is Hudson. And believe you me, he didn’t escape. Why would he? Look at her! Would you escape from a gorgeous girl like that?” She waits for an answer. “Would you?”

      Henry takes a long look at me. “No. I certainly wouldn’t.”

      “That’s right you wouldn’t! And neither did Hudson. Charlotte, my dear, didn’t you tell me Hudson loves the fountain at Lincoln Center?” Her eyes light up. “That he likes to jump and bite at the fronds of water?”

      I feel myself smiling when I picture Hudson with his front paws in the water. Technically, dogs aren’t allowed up on the rim of the fountain, but I always let him sneak on. “Yes, he can’t get enough of it.”

      “So, boom. You’ll have a little look around Lincoln Center. You,” she says accusingly, poking her finger into Henry’s chest. “You take care of this one. Make sure she eats. Make sure she rests.” She takes a card from the display tray and thrusts it at him. “You call me twice a day until you find Hudson, no excuses.”

      He pockets the card, and assures her he will.

      “Go on, dear,” she says to me. “See that bin of bones by the door? Walk up there and choose a nice one for when you find Hudson. Go.”

      She watches me walk away before addressing Henry.

      “Remember,” she says, pulling him to the side, and whispering. “The sooner the better,” she says. I strain to hear. “There are sick people out there,” she says even more softly. “I hear they take them to Canada. If you can, find him today.”

      *****

      I’m practically hyperventilating as we hop in a cab to head downtown. “Lincoln Center, please, driver,” Henry says crisply. “We’ll start there and if we come up short, we’ll head back to where you last saw Hudson.”

      I can hardly hear what he’s saying. My blood roars in my ears. Against my will, images of animals in danger play like film clips across my brain. I wish I’d waited outside the pet store for Henry. Now I can’t unthink about creepy animal-nappers. I lean back against the seat, and try to close my eyes, but that just makes it worse.

      “Listen Henry, we’ve got to do something! We’ve got to do something now!”

      “We are doing something. We’re going to check out spots that Hudson knows. Animals have an excellent ability to return to places familiar to them. First, we’re going to the Lincoln Center.”

      “But what if he’s not there? I mean, I know this is crazy, but what if some scientists found him, and they want to take him to a lab, for you know, experiments?”

      “Yes, that is crazy. Calm down, no mad scientists are roaming New York City’s streets searching for lab animals.”

      “Lab animals! A-ha. You said it yourself,” I say, sitting up on my tailbone. “What if, you know, cosmetics companies are sending out interns to find strays? It’s illegal to test on animals, right?”

      “Not exactly…”

      “So they’d have to do it undercover, like, by dark of night.”

      He squints his eyes and tilts his head. “Didn’t you say Hudson was lost late yesterday morning?”

      “That’s not my point,” I could feel my blood start to race. He wasn’t listening to me at all. “What I’m saying is, they’d have to steal animals because they couldn’t buy them at a pet store or online because they’d get arrested.” The cab takes a sharp right, and I’m flung across Henry’s lap. He sets me upright and untangles