COLUMN BY MATT PRANGER

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A Slappy, Happy, Island Christmas

"Hoof and Mouth Disease Grounds Santa's Flight Team." As I share a story about the cancellation of reindeer appearances in England this season, Ted "The Rock" Hedd scoffs.

"Reindeer, hmmff," Rock grunts into his coffee cup.

"What do you have against reindeer? Didn't you stay up late listening for Santa and Prancer and the rest of the team to land on your rooftop Christmas Eve? Didn't you sing 'Rudolf The Red-Nosed Reindeer' as a boy?"

"Don't say that over-hyped tundra deer's name around me," Rock responds.

"Rudolf is a cherished holiday icon. What could you possibly have against a reindeer who saved Christmas for youngsters around the world," I say.

"Well, let me tell you a story about another animal who helped save Christmas in the San Juan Islands," Rock says.

Rock is sitting on the outside of the booth at the local café, so there's no escaping. I lift my cup, motioning for a coffee refill.

"Back when I was a young lad, many, many moons ago, my family lived on a fish tender. One day a fisherman brought in a newborn seal pup he had been hauled in with his catch. Wolf Hollow didn't exist then, so we nursed it along, using one of the holds as a pen.

"Happy Slappy -- that's what we called him because he liked to slap his flippers for attention or a herring treat -- stuck close to our boat even after we released him. He'd follow us out to the Banks and the other fishing grounds. In the off-season, my Pa operated the mail run between all the islands and Slappy would tag along. He was a mighty strong seal, swimming ahead of the boat often. And sharp, too. Pa would say, 'Next stop Olga,' and Slappy would lead the way there. His sense of direction was better than any homely pigeon."

I couldn't let that one pass. "Rock, don't you mean HOMING pigeon." And what does a pet seal have to do with Rudolf?

"All that coffee you've been slurping up is making you a might bit testy. I meant homely, because that's what those airborne rats are. They're a scourge at the Port of Friday Harbor, where I keep my boat. They're messier and noisier than seagulls, which belong at sea..."

"I'm sorry, I know your opinion of pigeons. Let's hear more about Slappy," I say, hoping to get him back on whatever course he's taking.

"As I was saying, Slappy knew his way around the islands. On foggy days, he'd swim ahead and bark, guiding my father. One of the thickest fogs in history settled over the islands on a Christmas. We could see it engulf the islands as we sailed toward Victoria's Inner Harbor. After living on the boat for months and months, Ma and Pa were planning a pampered Christmas at the Empress Hotel.

"We were snug in our hotel room when bells started jingling outside about 8 p.m. I peaked out and there was Santa Claus, his sleigh and reindeer. I ran outside with my Pa and we saw Santa muttering to himself as he was buffing up Rudolf's nose.

"'What's wrong Santa?' I asked."

"That fog clinging to the San Juans is thicker than plum pudding," Santa said with a shake of his head. "I can't even see Rudolf's nose from my sleigh. I don't know how I'll deliver Christmas presents to all the boys and girls in the islands."

"Of course, my first thought was: 'Boy, I'm glad we're in Victoria this Christmas.' Then I felt sorry for my cousins and friends in the islands who'd wake to a Christmas tree bare of gifts. About that time I heard Slappy bark in the harbor and the cogs in my noggin started whirling. I told Santa that we could load the presents on our boat and my seal Slappy would guide us. Giving me a polar-bear-size hug, Santa said, 'Ho, ho, ho, boy you and your seal might just save Christmas for the islands.'

"We strapped a red elf hat on Slappy's head and packed the packages on the boat. With Slappy's joyous bark leading the way, we delivered the presents to the children of Stuart, San Juan, Waldron, Orcas, Shaw, Decatur, Center, Blakely and the rest of the islands. Slappy was so exhausted by the time pulled back into Victoria that we feared he swam his last run. We lifted him on board and after he stopped gasping, fed him eggnog and herring by hand. Santa gave Slappy three 100-pound winter kings to feast on after he recovered.

"Before Santa returned to his sleigh, he patted Slappy on the head, saying 'You, seal, have my approval.'

"Now you know why I think Rudolf is overrated," Rock concludes.

"That's quite a tale, but why haven't I ever heard this story before from another islander?" I ask.

"Shucks, you know modesty is one of my gifts," Rock says with a grin.

SAN JUAN ISLANDER © 2008

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