Leia and Yoda spot a deer off in the field. Yoda, the “good” one, listens as he is told to “stay.” Leia looks at him, asking, “really, you aren’t going to come with me as I disobey and chase after that deer?”

I’ve recently blogged over at Lance’s Dog Patch about my experience this summer at the Pembroke Welsh Corgi Club of the Potomac‘s corgi rescue picnic. I’m sharing here for my readers:

I had the honor of speaking at the rescue picnic for the Pembroke Welsh Corgi Club of the Potomac in August. One of the club’s objectives is “to maintain an organized rescue service” to help homeless or displaced Pembroke Welsh Corgis find a good home. The picnic, an annual tradition, was held to honor those who had rescued such corgis.

While I was invited to speak about my own corgis, Leia and Yoda, and their inspiration in my mystery series Corgi Capers, in preparing for the picnic I reflected on what my dogs truly mean to me. A highlight of the picnic—aside from the barbecue (thanks, Kathy and Stephon!)—was hearing the stories of rescuers adopting their dogs. The sacrifices, the time and energy, the love poured into the bond between human and canine. More than that, it was seeing all the corgis and the joy they brought and bring their people—and vice versa–even in the summer heat.

My daughter who came along, loved going around and asking to pet all the dogs. I wasn’t sure who was happier—her or the corgis. For the three-year-old, there was no pouting at this picnic. And that’s what I really think matters about dogs in our lives. It’s the mutual joy–the way they bring out the best in us. They make us slow down and appreciate details we might otherwise miss in life.

Talking to her grandkids, my grandmother always lamented the fact that we would one day grow up, that kids make everything more fun. While this may be the case, I say one of the secrets to prolonged youth is having an animal to care for–and to care for you.

In my own experience, my corgis have helped me to see other perspectives. It could be as simple as looking at a thunderstorm from two inches off the ground (it’s terrifying!), or learning that I need to dig out snow tunnels in the winter (check out the snow Olympics here).

In early morning walks around the yard with my dogs, I’ve seen sunlight streaming through a dew-speckled spider web, felt mole tunnels collapse under my feet, caught dozens of winter sunrises blazing through the white landscape, and relaxed to summer sunsets kissing the world to sleep. These are things I would likely have missed, relegated instead to the comforts of air conditioning and heat, if not for Leia and Yoda prancing and dancing and “Aroooing” at me to join them.

Once, in the dead of winter, I heard the sound of complete silence. No bird, plane, car, human, or canine. Leia and Yoda, normally barkers, froze as if entranced by the same winter magic that captivated me.

And it goes further back.

Growing up, the family dog, a bichon frise named Chip, made every day an adventure with daily walks and playtime. My sister and I peeked into sewers, checking out the tunnel systems with him. I walked in total darkness while listening to rustling leaves, sparking my imagination and strengthening my courage. We kept track of changing scenes around the neighborhood, and introduced ourselves to those we would not otherwise know. Scenes from my canine adventures have certainly made their way into my Corgi Capers novels, and for good reason.

To me, dogs bring me perpetual childhood. They splash in puddles, they run through bushes. Heck, they stop and smell the roses. I think my grandmother was onto something when she said that we all lose a little something when the children in our lives grow up. But she didn’t have dogs. I suspect that if she did, she might have felt a bit differently.

Muller poses with husband Eric at the PWCCP’s rescue picnic. She was honored to receive a “superstar rescue award.” She auctioned off a chance to name a character in the upcoming Corgi Capers book 4 to raise money for corgi rescue.

I heard just yesterday the question, “Why isn’t there any good news?” It’s true that new media seem to play up the negative stories and skip over the happy ones. What’s that expression? Blood sells, right? As 9/11 approaches each year, it seems many of us grow gloomy as well, so I thought I’d share an article I’ve been saving since last month.

I enjoyed coming across an article inAugust’s Parade magazine about acting dogs (Acting Like a Dog), and you can imagine I was thrilled to read about two corgis, Mimi and Marco, who were surrendered by their owner when they were 9 and 10 years old. Sent to a rescue organization, they were placed with Bill Berloni, an animal trainer, who placed them in a Broadway show called The Audience, a play about Queen Elizabeth II. The two “undeniable crowd pleasers” dash across the stage, thrilling audience members and are themselves rewarded with mozzarella cheese, their preferred treat.

The article continues, discussing dogs that Berloni trains, including the Chihuahua starring in Legally Blonde: The Musical, which he adopted from a shelter.

I always sort of dread when September 11 rolls around on the calendar. Like any of us old enough to remember the day, I will never forget where I was when I heard, and I will never forget the tense moments afterwards, glued to the television and unsure of the future—or the serious repercussions the day had on our society at large. It’s good to be reminded that there are positive stories out there such as the stories people like Berloni create every day—of abandoned lives turning into talent that can bring joy to thousands.

The news story brought me a smile and is one more reason we should all aspire to consider small ways we can bring joy to others—in other words, to live more like a dog!

Photo credit and full article

Because we’ve been meeting new fur-iends lately and everyone might not know us, we decided to introduce ourselves. Our person, Val, is helping us with this post. She doesn’t want any nonsense from me (Leia).

My brother is sitting under the desk right now in what he calls his “cubicle.” He is afraid of everything, including keyboards, so I’ll be talking for the both of us.

So like I said, my name’s Leia Corgi. I’m the cutest of the corgis in this house. I was born in a liter of four—I was the only girl, and when my person found me, I was being picked on by my three brothers because I wouldn’t stop biting their ears. When my person sits at the computer, I sit right next to her in the extra office chair. Here I am, looking cute as ever:

We used to live in a townhome. We didn’t like it because it had too many stairs. The vet said that with our tiny little legs, we should avoid stairs as much as possible. But I’m Leia! So if there’s stairs, I’m gonna run up an’ down ‘em. We also had a tiny little yard. Our person got it fenced in for us, but it was no use chasing squirrels or birds. They made it past the fence before we could get to ‘em. Same for cats. There was this giant gray cat that used to visit us. She had a jingle bell on her collar, and whenever we heard it, we went nuts! But the cat knew we had a fence, and she would sit about six inches outside our fence and lick her paw while we barked and barked.

Our person told us we were in for a treat. We moved further out toward “the country” a year and a half ago. I got so much exercise running around there that the vet no longer tells my person to watch my weight. (Hmph! The nerve of that vet to talk about a girl’s weight!).

So we moved out here to the country. The best thing is when it snows. My brother and I love to play in the snow. In fact, I think snow might be the only thing my brother is not afraid of. Here’s a picture of me and Yoda in the snow. We hope it snows at least this much again this winter. Our person doesn’t agree.

At least I’m not a scaredy-dog. When we go for a ride in the car car car!, our person makes me sit in the back because I run from side to side and squeal the whole time. This terrifies Yoda, of course, and he jumps into the front seat and plops down in the passenger seat and stares and stares and stares at our person—as if she could protect him from me! Here is a picture of him cowering there in the car. Sad, isn’t it?

Yoda: Are you gonna protect me from my crazy sister?

Anyway, Yoda is afraid of just about everything, but he’s especially afraid of me. Whenever our person lets us sleep on her chair with her, I have to make sure to push Yoda down to her feet. I try to sleep as close to her face as possible. Sometimes she yells as me and says something about my breath and makes me move away (my breath?! She’s almost as rude as our vet! How could she insult me like that?) Anyway, here’s a picture our other person snapped of me trying to sleep as close as possible to our person:

And speaking of scary, here is my favoritest picture of Yoda being afraid of me:

I’m a very smart dog, so I need a lot of distractions to keep me entertained. We used to have a hamster. It lived for two years and then died. My person got another hamster. It didn’t live the fully-anticipated two years, so our person said she was too sad to keep getting hamsters. But I loved them. I used to sit and watch them run around their little wheels for weeks at a time. The only thing better than a hamster would be a cat, but we can’t. Our person is allergic. How selfish!

Speaking of cats. In case you didn’t know, our person writes books about corgis. They’re called Corgi Capers, and we always get to be cover models. In the last book, she finally wrote about us being friends with a cat. You can see the cat on the cover. She looks just the like one that used to come torment us in our yard at the townhome. Here are the covers to the books:

She also wrote a book about a corgi that doesn’t look like us (the nerve!). It’s an illustrated book, and even though it doesn’t star us, it’s a good read. It’s about taking the time to enjoy each day and not to be afraid of everything (like my brother). It’s a lesson her parents taught her because she used to be afraid of lots of things—though not as many things as Yoda!

The front cover, illustrated by the talented Yuming Cao.

It’s now 4:34, and I was supposed to be fed at exactly 4:00, so I’m giving my person the “corgi eye stare” to let her know. So although there’s lots more I could tell you about myself, I’d rather go eat now. You should tell your person to feed you now, too! If you want to read more about me, you can check out the other blog posts here at www.corgicapers.com. I especially like the story “In Search of Winter.” It was written by Sapphie Corgi, the dog in Corgi Capers that’s mostly inspired by me.

Have a happy day, and I hope to talk to you again soon!

Love,

Leia Corgi (and, under the desk, Yoda, too!)