a quiet day.

There once was a Labrador who was the Queen of an entire realm made up of carpeting and kisses. Because she was the Queen, she could lick any face that she pleased and lay across any square of carpet that was most fitting for her. She was not born a Queen, though she always had her bed fluffed every evening and her water dish filled every morning. She was once a curious Princess, about the size of a watermelon, who could jump clear over a garden fence and would spend her days planning tricks to play on her house guests. She would sneak into the bathroom, curl up behind the door and they wouldn’t see her until their pants had fallen to their knees. Or she would walk along the beach, her regal chain attached, and race forward with a start, startling her followers, and then slow to a walk…and then race…and then walk. All this, even though there was nothing to catch or to inspect. And she had the most dazzling smile a Princess Labrador could ever have and all of her guests fell in love with her.

When she became Queen, her smile remained and underneath it grew a quite distinguishing white beard. Her body was much bigger than a watermelon by then so she didn’t jump over fences or drag her followers by the leash anymore. She reserved herself to presiding over her dominion, allowing only those of her approval to enter without harassment. On holidays, and especially her birthday, she received presents from her house guests and she kept them all in a basket next to her throne. She spent her days nested in her throne, occasionally taking a small jaunt outside. In her older age, she still loved when it snowed. No matter how white her beard, it seemed to disappear as she romped in the snow and ate it. It seemed as though she forgot she was not a Princess anymore.

The Queen was content. She enjoyed her house guests and would still go outside sometimes. Her last winter in her realm, she did not go outside much at all. Her legs were very tired, her eyes did not work as well as they used to and she felt cold much more often than when she was younger. She became tired of life, wishing for the days when she was still a Princess and she decided not to eat anything for eight days. On the ninth day, her house guests curled up her body, helped her into her carriage and brought her to the doctor. The Queen never returned to her realm. Her basket is still there, and her throne; her sparkling collars, and her water bowl. It was too soon for a new Princess, if a new Princess would ever come. Until then, all of this splendor would remain the Queen’s and her house guests’, who missed her dearly.