Vixen was happy when Rudolph was born, but admittedly for the wrong reason. The baby’s huge, shiny, red nose would take all attention off the adult reindeer’s cleft palate. His young calf memories were unpleasant and bitter, when he allowed himself to think about the cruelty of the other reindeer youngsters. Didn’t they know it wasn’t his fault? He would never have purposely wanted to make that wet, sucking noise when he laughed or frolicked. He certainly would never have chosen the nickname, “Vixen the Hare Lipped Reindeer” for himself. Sure, as he had gotten older and the other reindeer had outgrown their little “games,” the outward ribbing and viciousness had finally toned down, but the scars remained, roiling under the surface of his psyche. Continue reading »