A guy comes into our animal shelter over the Christmas period.

Guy: “Excuse me, but your sign outside says, ‘A puppy is for life, not just for Christmas.’ Is that really all that common? People giving up their dogs after Christmas?”

Me: “I’m afraid it really is, sir. Puppies are very common Christmas gifts, but as they get older, we see a lot of families who didn’t do the research and aren’t prepared for the realities of a growing and energetic dog.”

Guy: “That’s horrible! How old are they when they’re given up?”

Me: “It varies, but usually, we get them handed in by the end of summer break. That’s usually the point when the family is overwhelmed — or even worse, bored of them.”

Guy: “This is making me so angry. I have a big house and land, and I have two dogs who get along pretty well with each other and other dogs! If you get anyone handing their dogs in as unwanted Christmas gifts, you give me a call. I will make sure they get a good home!”

Me: “Sir, that’s very generous of you, but we also need to make sure the dogs go to good homes, and when kind people such as yourself ask for multiple dogs we need to make doubly sure.”

Guy: “My family lives in three big houses spread over our farm. We have lots of kids between us all, and they’re always asking for dogs. We can take a bunch; trust me.”

He pulled out his phone and showed me his house, his two lovely dogs, his adult children, and so many grandkids that I lost track.

That year, he and the extended family (one adult couple and two couples each with multiple kids) adopted six dogs from us. I track them all on Facebook, and they seem like the happiest dogs ever, despite having been Christmas “rejects”.

I have two wonderful nephews who are too young to earn their own money, so I take them shopping before Mother’s Day and Father’s Day so they can buy their parents something for the special day.

A couple of years back, my sister divorced her husband for a multitude of reasons that I won’t go into here. This past Mother’s Day, I did my tradition and went shopping with the kids. When my now ex-brother-in-law sent me a suggestion for what he would like for Father’s Day, I let him know I’m not shopping for him this year since he was the one who left my sister to raise the kids. He only sees them for holidays.

Understandably, he feels that the kids should still celebrate Father’s Day, and that’s okay, but I’m not going to spend my money on him. I told him he should take his kids shopping for Father’s Day instead, but it would be his money for his own gift.

Am I entitled? Maybe. Am I petty? You’d better believe it. Leave your kids and your wife and still expect to be praised on Father’s Day? He’s the crazy one.

This was probably over twenty years ago, but I find myself thinking of this story from time to time even these days because it was so touching to me.

I have always loved Halloween and entertaining and scaring trick-or-treaters at my house. One Halloween when I was in my late twenties, I was eager to get into the business of scaring people. We realized at the last minute that we didn’t have candles for our pumpkins. I reluctantly volunteered to go to the store but didn’t want to miss any time doing my thing at our scary “haunted house” in the front yard.

I drove down to the local [Grocery Chain] and looked up and down the aisles. A girl in a witch costume walked by.

Girl: “Do you know where the pumpkin candles are?”

Me: “I’m in a rush looking for the same thing!”

She looked very kindly at me and gave me a big smile.

Girl: “Let’s work together; you go that way and I’ll check this way.”

We covered the whole store and reported back to one another that we were unable to locate the candles.

Girl: “You check next door at [Store #1], and I’ll check at [Store #2].”

It was becoming a game, and we were both clearly in a hurry to get the candles and get to where we wanted to be. But I also noticed that it was becoming kind of fun.

I checked high and low in [Store #1] and, once again, had no luck. As I walked into [Store #2], I immediately saw my new friend, the witch, in the checkout line buying candles!

Me: “Awesome! Where are they?!”

Girl: “Right here!”

And she handed me a package of candles. I barely had time to thank her, and she left me with another beaming smile.

It’s important to remember how impactful even the smallest act of kindness can be. Wherever you are out there, my cute witch, I still remember our Halloween team effort and your kindness!

I used to live in a fairly poor neighborhood when I was still studying (poor student!). There was one dude who posed as Santa (or rather our version of it, Nikolaus) and sat there on a makeshift throne on the big plaza outside the apartment I lived in. Kids could come up to him, he’d listen to their wishes for Christmas, and he’d hand them some plush toy. For the longest time, I thought that’s some sort of thing our city does because, well, welcome to socialist Vienna.

I really thought it was some kind of city deal.

Fast forward twenty-ish years. I’m now living somewhere else, with a neat income, no longer in the neighborhood there. I happened to shop there at some point, and I saw some guy hauling out a HUGE bag with plush toys. And looking at him, it dawned on me; it was the guy from back then! He was older now, of course, but that was St. Nick from the plaza.

Me: “It’s you!”

St. Nick: “I guess so. What do you mean?”

Me: “You’re St. Nick from [Square].”

St. Nick: *Laughing* “Yeah, you one of my kids?”

Me: “Thanks, man, but I’m probably too old to be. Nah, I just saw you every year, back when I lived here. So, you still have that gig?”

St. Nick: “Gig?”

Me: “Well, the whole St. Nick gig with the town?”

St. Nick: *Laughing* “No gig, man!”

No, there was no gig. He bought the toys himself, got a license from the town to put up his throne, and handed out his own toys to the kids around the area whose parents very likely didn’t have the money to buy them any plush toys to begin with.

Now, we have a better deal: more toys, paid for by me, with the store as a supporter, giving us the toys they couldn’t sell at cost. It’s not like I have any other use for my Christmas bonus anyway; I have no family. And “St. Nick” never had to turn a kid away again because he was out of plush toys, so I’d consider that a win-win.

It’s the week leading up to Valentine’s Day, and all the Valentine’s candy, flowers, and plants are out. I’m facing the plants near the candy. There is a display near me with foam hearts made from little foam roses labeled as “lollipops”.

A customer is looking around at the candy on the other side of the half-wall I am working on and gets my attention.

Customer: “What do these taste like?”

Me: “I’m sorry? I’m not sure I understand.”

Customer: “These lollipops here — what do they taste like?”

Me: “Oh, those aren’t edible; they’re made out of foam.”

These things are five to eight inches in diameter and are clearly made out of foam or even real miniature roses.

Customer: “Okay, but what do they taste like?”

Me: “They’re… made out of foam. You can’t eat them.”

This went on for another couple of minutes before he finally “understood” and walked away. I’m still not sure what exactly he thought “foam” meant.