Yes, Virginia, There is a Santa Claus
By Francis P. Church, first published in The New York Sun in 1897.
[See The People’s Almanac, pp. 1358–9.]
We take pleasure in answering thus prominently the communication
below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its
faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Sun:

It was the typical Christmas pageant.
Miss Lumbard was trying to assign all the children
to their appropriate roles.

I once was a cuddly kitten,
But now I am a stray,

'Cause when I was no
longer fluffy, They sent
me on my way.

Shirley Medlin Pace @1960sparkey

My only child, Mike, was killed in a hunting accident at the age of twenty-three,
November 26, 1983, two days after Thanksgiving. I wanted to die. Death
snatches your joy and happiness. Death fills every waking moment and
becomes your bedfellow at night. In the end, love wins and life goes on.

From the Book I am writing The House That Mike Built.

Sam was twelve years old, part German Shepherd and part Lab.
He passed away years ago after getting sick on Christmas Eve.

We took him to an emergency animal hospital and had to leave him.
Christmas night about six o'clock in the evening, we called to see
if he was well enough to come home.