My Mother’s Magic

My mother has a knack for whipping up a bit of magic now and then. Or is it a bit of whimsy?

When I was young, most people in our town were doing well financially and many had pets – pedigree pets. We and some others had mutts and whatever the equivalent of that is in the feline genus.

Zorro was one of our more memorable pups. He was the most spirited dog we ever had. If you put him on a leash, he’d break it even though he wasn’t very big. He was strong, wiry, and fast. He had short, coarse, shimmery, jet-black fur. Except on his back. He had a skin problem and had no fur on his back.

That didn’t stop my mom from entering him into a best of show contest. Fortunately, costumes were encouraged. With her usual magic, she whipped one up with stuff on hand. Nothing elaborate. She made a cape that covered his embarrassing condition with short ties to attach around his neck. Then a tiny mask for his eyes. And finally, she fashioned a sword out of cardboard and aluminum foil and attached it to his collar. We laughed because, well, he was Zorro. We loved him but he was not a good looking dog even without his malady.  He won – blue ribbon – first prize.