Stray Heaven Or Summer Santa 

Author Unknown

While driving north to visit my Grandma, I had to pass through a small town called Greenville. I spotted a small shop called “Stray Heaven.” I stopped and parked my car. As I came close to the window I noticed a plump elderly man arranging items. I proceeded into the front door. As the door opened music started to play, it was The Skater’s Waltz. The shop was very neat and clean. What looked like antiques were skillfully arranged to create homey pockets throughout the spacious floor. The gentleman was now to my left as I proceeded farther into the store. He leaned forward and gave me the warmest welcome smile I ever received. The man had a thick mass of white hair that seemed to wrap his face as it merged with a white short-cropped beard and moustache. His eyes were the color of a blue summer sky, which were only accentuated by the two mounds, which were his cheeks. The cheeks on the man were the color of ripe peaches and his lips looked as though he was carefully eating red raspberries. He was wearing a white short sleeved shirt, green cotton pants that were held up by red suspenders. I proceeded into the store quietly. In the corner I saw her. She too had twinkling blue eyes and white hair that was pulled back into a bun. She looked up, placed her sewing down and proceeded toward me. “Welcome to our store,” she said, extending her hand. “My name is Merry and that is my husband Sammy.” I took and shook her hand, and waved back to Sammy who gave me a brief nod. Merry invited me to look around and if I had any questions I was free to ask. She made me feel extremely welcome. I ventured forth looking at and touching things like toys and glassware. Shortly I spotted him, sitting on a round blue glass table. He was as orange as a ripe pumpkin sitting in a field at autumn. He had the largest dark green eyes I had ever seen. “Merry,” I said, “Is this your shop cat?” “No,” Merry replied, “He just came to live here. Pet him if you would like, not many people do.” I reached down to stroke the lovely orange cat. As I did, he rose to my caress. To my surprise he only had three legs. Merry then told me of his accident when he was a kitten with a neighboring dog, and how they gave him a place to stay. The disfigurement did not bother me at all. I stroked him until he purred so loudly, that Sammy stopped what he was doing. “Do you like him miss?” Sammy asked. “I certainly do,” I replied, “and please call me Susan.” “Well, Susan would you like to have him?” Sammy questioned. I did not reply, I needed time to think about it. It was not because of his missing leg. I worked and the cat would not have much company during the day with me gone. I finally broke my silence and explained that to Sammy. He understood. I left my post of cat stroking and moved to another item that caught my eye. Across from where Merry was working was a wooden hobbyhorse the likes I had never seen before. The horse was four foot high at the shoulder. It had a golden rope mane running down his back. He was beautiful. I approached the horse, and upon closer inspection I realized he was in dire need of a paint job. His coat of black satin was peeling away, exposing an underbelly of oak wood. In its day it was probably a sight to behold. Merry then invited me to join her in a cup of tea and some sugar cookies. While I drank and nibbled, Merry explained that at one time Sammy was a toy maker with a very large business. The people who worked for him were not perfect either, but they needed jobs and Sammy wanted to give them a purpose in life. But that was so very long ago, and the business was no longer, and now he needed no helpers. Merry continued to explain, “As you may notice all the things here are just a little in disrepair. The rag doll over there needs a new eye and horse needs a new coat of paint. Sammy does not have the heart to send them to the Dumpster. On occasion one of our oldest employees will stop in to see us. He is sad to see for he is a shattered person with no work goals to fill his days. We give him food, clothing and some money to live on, but it is not the same as when business was good. We all had respect, hope and self-esteem back then. But now at least having this shop open gives us something to do.” Merry called to Sammy to come and have a tea with us. Sammy put down his next move like a chess player who had just won. This was the first time Sammy had stopped moving items since I had walked through the door. As Sammy drank his tea, I just had to ask, “Why do you labor so hard putting things in just the right spot or right angle?” Sammy smiled at me and replied, “When you look at things you look only for the item to be perfect, right?” I pondered that for a moment and admitted he was right. I thought of the cat, it did seem perfect and the same for the horse. Sammy went on to tell me, “It is better to have the illusion of perfection upon first glance. The thought of perfection captures your mind, and then at closer inspection your heart gets captured. Is that not how you felt with the cat and the horse?” It was true. I guess looking for the best side of things does make a difference, even if it’s not perfect. We finished our tea and cookies. Merry got what she was working on to show me. She was repairing an old gray and red sock puppet. She was darning a hole near its mouth. I saw the thing and my heart sang. It was just like the puppet I used to have as a child, that I called Skeezik. I told Merry if she could get it done before I left I would buy it. Merry set back to work on it. In five minutes I had Skeezik again. It was now getting very late and I knew I had to be going so that I would be at Grandma’s before dark. At the moment I purchased Skeezik, I also decided to give the pumpkin orange cat a home too. “I will call him Sammy after your husband and he will live with me in love until he lives no more,” I told Merry. I paid for my treasures and went to my car. Sammy and Merry waved good-bye to me. I knew I would visit them again one day as I passed through. I got to Grandma’s about thirty minutes later. I showed her my orange cat Sammy. As I picked up Skeezik I noticed a tag sewn to his side. The tag said, repaired by a worker of Santa Clause. Was I seeing right? I looked again, only to reread Sammy Clouse. Was it my eyes or my heart that read Santa Clause first? I knew it could not be, just for the sake of logic. But who really sees logic or imperfection, when you look with your heart?

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