Wolfie

I was sitting on my favorite bench in the park today, when a fabulously beautiful wolf appeared. He was leading two statuesque, winged, helmeted and radiant women by a silver cord. I felt peace and joy envelop my heart, but still checked to be sure my daughter and our long haired dachshund, Mister Darcy, were safely away; as Mister Darcy will attack any large canine

given half a chance. And no, of course, my Wolfie was not a wild nor even a real wolf, although his coloring, shape and details were exactly right; his long fur just as rich and voluptuous and precious; only the

size was smaller, although not really so much. And yes, of course, he was on a plain old leash, no silver cords for them. As they approached my bench he and the very pleasant middle-aged Italian women - nary a wing nor a helmet to be seen, of course - could see my welcome and pleasure and delight, and allowed Wolfie to approach me. He took his soft nose and nuzzled my face and neck, and I pulled his ears gently and kissed his cheeks and called him Prezioso. And we all smiled and laughed, and

waved as they left. About five minutes later I again felt soft nuzzling on my neck and there they all three were again, smiling at me. The woman holding the leash offered me a couple of small pale yellow blooms she had picked for me, and said i should sniff them - and when I did, as cold a

January day as it was, I thought I was drowning in honeysuckle.

I swooned a little, smiled, they smiled, and on their way they went.

If I ever see the three again, I will know that they are real.