Feline fairy tales.
Bedtime stories do their job.
Sleep, the end result.
Once upon a time there was a corgi named Maggie.
She was a waddling, chunky creature who “never ate any snacks between meals.”
Or so we were told.
After we adopted her at age four, I put her on a strict diet and training regimen. The vet was impressed with her 15 pound weight loss, and greatly improved muscle tone.
So was I.
Eventually Maggie found she was even fit enough to participate in Olympic style completion.
Her sport: The luge!
Using her corgi torso as the sled, of course.
Up, and then down, the hill she’d sail on slick, white snow for hours.
At record breaking speed.
And with all four paws saluting in mid-air.
Until she’d crash at the bottom into a 10 foot tall snowman.
Wet nose in the air.
After the Olympic closing ceremony, Maggie would march around the rambler wearing her gold medal around her neck.
Her head held high.
Finally tiring some, with muscles sore, this low to the ground luger would begin to pull gardening books off the shelves with her sharp canine teeth.
Chewing away at the corners, peering out from her infamous green reading glasses, she’d eventually plot out a beautiful red, white and blue garden for us.
Maggie surely was a winner of a corgi.
I miss my old friend.
But her prize winning garden still keeps blooming bright every summer.