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"Bullet, up!" Steve McGarrett pointed at the passenger seat of his Silverado. His partner Danny Williams' German shepherd, Bullet, just looked at him and thunked his tail against the ground. "Come on, boy, I know you can do!" More tail-thumping. Steve groaned. This had seemed like such a simple idea when he thought of it—grab the dog, do what he wanted to do, and have Bullet back before Danny returned home from his stint selling raffle tickets at the craft fair at his daughter Grace's school.

That was where this had all started, really. Danny had gotten roped into helping out, and in turn, he'd extracted promised from Steve and their teammates Chin Ho Kelly, Kono Kalakaua, and Lou Grover to show up and support the school. Dutifully, the four had shown up bright and early, bought lots of raffle tickets ($20 for the height of a man—Steve was naturally a much more popular choice than Danny, and Danny had tried to get him to stay to boost sales, but Steve had begged off), and perused the booths.

Steve hadn't planned on buying anything, but then something at one of the booths had caught his eye. It was a woodworking booth primarily displaying hand-carved picture frames. But what had caught Steve's eye were the photo ornaments. He'd had a brief thought of buying one for Danny and inserting a picture of Grace, but he immediately discarded that idea. Danny had tons of pictures of Grace, framed and otherwise, including photo ornaments, and every ornament she'd ever made as a school or Aloha Girls art project. Then he saw the ornaments adorned with paw prints, and his plan was hatched.

Danny had just acquired Bullet a couple of months earlier, and though Danny wouldn't admit it, Steve could tell Bullet held almost as high a place in Danny's heart as Grace (okay, that was an exaggeration, but Danny was awfully fond of his dog, and no matter what Danny said, Steve was not that sappy about his own cat, Ninja). But Danny only had a few pictures of Bullet on his phone (which Steve was subjected to far to frequently for his tastes, and no, he did not subject Danny to pictures of Ninja. Well, not often anyway).

So here Steve was, standing in Danny's driveway, trying to convince Bullet to get in the truck so Steve could take him to PetSmart for a picture with Santa. And there Bullet was, trying to convince Steve that he was far too decrepit to get in the truck by himself.

"Look," Steve told the dog, "I know Danny spoils you, but I am not lifting your 70-lb ass into my truck. You're going to have to get up on your own." Bullet whined softly. "Yes, I know you were beaten and shot, but that was months ago. I know for a fact you've been fully cleared." More whining and more tail-thumping. "Okay, fine. Just don't tell Danny, okay? I'll never live it down." He lifted the dog into the Silverado, and Bullet licked his face before settling down on the seat.

At PetSmart, Steve was overwhelmed. There were dogs everywhere—little yappy dogs, big, barky dogs, bouncing Boston terriers, even a dog that looked for all the world like Steve's mop had grown legs and started walking around on its own. Steve had been in combat situations; he thought he was pretty unflappable, but this was more than he could take. He nearly turned around and went home, but he'd come this far. Steve was determined to finish his mission.

Steve paid for his photo package and got in line when he noticed something. Almost all the dogs were decked out in holiday finery of one kind or another—Santa hats, jingle bell collars, festive sweaters, and whatnot. If he was going to do this, he was going to do this right—clearly, Bullet needed some sort of holiday accessory. The store had a selection of fripperies you could borrow, but the antler headbands and sparkly boas didn't appeal to Steve. So he started browsing the shelves. He'd already rejected the antler headbands. He tried a Santa hat on Bullet, but it just didn't look right. He spent some time looking at sweaters before realizing there was no way he was going to try to shove Bullet into one—getting him into the truck had been bad enough. Then, something caught his eye. Perfect! He made his purchase and got back in line.

When they reached the front of the line, Bullet whined and hid behind Steve's legs. "Hey, it's okay, buddy," Steve said. "He's not going to hurt you." Bullet just whined more. Steve eyed Santa suspiciously. He looked wholesome enough. Friendly, jolly, rosy-cheeked, just like Santa should be. Maybe he should flash his badge, get Chin to run a background check. Steve could just hear Danny's rant. "It's just a pet store Santa, for heaven's sake! I highly doubt Santa's running drugs on the side." Still, you could never be too sure, and animals had a way of sensing these things. Then again, none of the other dogs had a problem. Bullet had been abused; Steve decided Santa must just remind Bullet somehow of his previous owner. He eyed Santa one more time just to be sure, then coaxed Bullet forward. Bullet sniffed tentatively at Santa, then turned and lifted his leg, nailing Santa's boot.

Steve was horrified. "Bullet, bad dog!"

Santa just laughed, a genuine laugh that erased Steve's suspicions. Clearly, this was a man who knew and liked animals. "It's okay, he's not the first and he won't be the last." One of the elves handed Santa a paper towel and he wiped his boot. "Come on, Bullet is it? Sit here and let's take your picture, shall we?"

Having made his point, Bullet sat and let the elves take his picture, even licking Santa's face afterwards. Steve collected his photo and tacky plastic frame, and got them to put a digital copy on a thumb drive he'd brought with him. Mission accomplished, he bought Bullet a reward and headed home.

When Danny returned from the craft fair, a strange noise caught his ear as he entered his house. Was that. . .jingling? Danny decided his ears must still be ringing from all the bells at the craft fair. There was no way he was hearing jingling in his own home. Wait—there it was again. Yep, definitely jingling.

Danny looked around. Everything looked normal. Nothing was appeared out of place, and Bullet was lounging on the sofa, happily chewing a large bone. Wait a minute—Danny hadn't given him a bone this morning, so where did he get one? And what in the world was that around his neck?

Danny looked closer, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. Bullet was sporting a gaudy red and green jester ruffle tipped with jingle bells—the source of the noise. What was going on here?

It was then Danny noticed the small gift bag on the coffee table. He opened it to find a hand-carved photo ornament decorated with paw prints with "2015" on the bottom. In the frame was a picture of Bullet and Santa. Bullet was wearing the ruffle and sporting a happy doggy grin. "Merry Christmas—Love, Steve," the card read.

Danny couldn't help but grin. He could imagine what it had taken for Steve to do this—Bullet wasn't always the most cooperative, and Steve was not a dog person. Danny was touched. He hung the ornament in place of pride on the tree—right next to the photo ornament of Grace. Merry Christmas indeed.