III. Cheesey’s Christmas Presents
“Cheesey had no place to sleep,” went on the policeman after seeing some people safely across the street, “except on a pile of bags in the ferry house. He seemed so cold that I asked Charley, one of the workmen in the ferry, if he could not knock together some packing boxes for the little fellow.
“Charley did the best he could, but I must say he made a sorry looking dog-house.
“One day, just before Christmas while I was on duty, Mr. Sheip, of the Sheip Box Factory, happened to notice the box Charley had knocked together.
“‘Well, well,’ he said, ‘is that the best you fellows can do?’
“‘Why, Mr. Sheip,’ I replied, ‘we are not box-makers, you know.’
“‘That’s so!’ he said. ‘I’ll have a dog-house made in the factory!’ and on Christmas day this beauty of a dog-house came. Have you noticed the label on it?”
I read the painted black letters on the large white label:
Merry Christmas
to
Cheesey
from
Officers Burke, Dougherty,
Kunzig, and Weigner.
“It pleased us so,” went on the officer, “that we bought a Christmas tree and many people helped us trim it.
“A good many people brought presents for Cheesey. One lady from Camden brought a feather pillow; another lady brought a piece of meat. That dog could have seventeen meals a day if he could hold them—couldn’t you, Cheesey?”
The little dog wagged his tail, turned around twice, then went into his house. After thanking the officer I went on my way, made happier for all my life because of the true story of Cheesey.