The Little Christmas Tree
“Fawn, come on,” coaxed Spot. “Let’s go get our Christmas tree.”
“I don’t want to,” said Fawn. “It’s too cold.”
“Are you feeling alright?” asked Spot. “I thought that you would like to go get our tree.”
“Actually, I’m not feeling well,” said Fawn. “I’m cold and I have a fever.”
“Oh Fawn, I’m so sorry,” said Spot. “Why don’t you go and lie down?”
“Yes, I think I will,” said Fawn.
Spot went outside to search for a Christmas tree. She spotted a small tree almost as soon as she started walking.
“No, that tree is too small,” said Spot to herself. “Besides, Fawn would kill me if I brought home a small tree. He likes big trees.”
Spot kept walking around the farm. She saw plenty of trees, but nothing that would make the perfect Christmas tree.
“SPOT!!!” Fawn yelled from the barn. “SPOT!!! Hurry, come quick!”
“That’s Fawn,” said Spot, turning toward the barn. “It sounds serious, I’d better hurry!”
Within seconds, Spot was back in the barn, standing over top of Fawn.
“Spot, help me,” Fawn pleaded. “I don’t feel well.”
“I think that I’d better call the vet,” said Spot. “You look like you are very sick, Fawn.”
Spot, once again, went outside. She ran up to the main house as fast as she could.
“Mr. Hansen, Mrs. Hansen,” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “Hurry, come quick. It’s Fawn. He is very sick.”
Mr. and Mrs. Hansen, followed by Ricky and Jenny Hansen, rushed outside to where Spot was standing.
“Hurry!” screamed Spot. “Fawn is very sick.”
“The rest of you go down to the barn with Spot,” said Mrs. Hansen. “I’ll call the vet. As soon as he comes, I’ll bring him down to the barn.”
The Hansen’s raced down to the barn with lightning speed, with Spot slipping and sliding on the ice, behind them.
“Oh my!” exclaimed Jenny Hansen, when she saw Fawn all curled up in a ball. “He really is sick, Daddy.”
Mr. Hansen bent down to take a closer look at Fawn.
“Yes, Jenny,” said Mr. Hansen, sadly. “It looks like Fawn is very sick.”
“He’ll be alright, won’t he?” asked Ricky Hansen.
“That I don’t know,” said Mr. Hansen. “We’ll just have to wait until Dr. Brown gets here.”
“This is very serious,” cried Spot to herself. “Fawn might not make it!”
Spot went back outside and cried to herself for a longtime. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there for, but when Mrs. Hansen and Dr. Brown came down to the barn, Spot was shivering.
“Spot, get into the barn,” said Mrs. Hansen. “You’ll get sick too.”
Spot turned to go back into the barn, when out of the corner of her eye she spotted the little Christmas tree. Quickly, she ran back into the barn and grabbed a saw. Within minutes, Spot was dragging the tree into Fawn’s stall.
“Spot, what are you doing?” asked Mrs. Hansen. “Now isn’t the time to worry about Christmas trees. We have to get Fawn better again.”
“No wait!” exclaimed Jenny. “Spot has the right idea. We need to cheer this barn up so that Fawn can get better!”
With that, the Hansen’s helped Spot decorate the tree, while Dr. Brown looked after Fawn.
“My, my!” exclaimed Mrs. Hansen when the tree was completed. “For such a tiny little tree, it sure does look beautiful.”
“Yes, it does,” said Mr. Hansen. “Now if only Fawn would get better!”
“Dr. Brown,” said Mrs. Hansen as she noticed him putting his equipment back into his bag. “How is Fawn? Is he going to be alright?”
“He’ll be fine,” said Dr. Brown. “It looks like he has a case of the flu. By tomorrow, he should be feeling much better.”
Sure enough, the next day Fawn was feeling much better.
“Oh Fawn!” exclaimed Spot when Fawn woke up. “You look so much better today. How are you feeling?”
“Much better,” said Fawn. “In fact, I want to go and get us our Christmas tree today.”
“You don’t have to,” said Spot, pointing to the tree in the corner of Fawn’s stall. “I already got one.”
Wow!” exclaimed Fawn. “What a beautiful tree! Spot, you did a good job of picking out this year’s tree. I’m glad you didn’t just pick out any old tree!”
“Merry Christmas, Fawn,” said Spot, happily.
“Merry Christmas, Spot,” said Fawn.
Moral of this Story:
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