One summer day—long before Mushu—we decided Izzy could enjoy some real sunshine. 

I carried her outside and set her gently into a thyme bush (it smelled amazing), right where the sun filtered through the leaves. She settled in like she belonged there, perfectly still, soaking up warmth while I worked in the yard nearby. Calm. Content. Queenly. 

Then Izzy heard something. 

I never did. 

Her head snapped up.

 Her body went rigid.

 Instinct took over. 

She launched herself out of that bush like a tiny dragon missile, sprinted across the yard, straight through the open door, and dove under the entertainment center with absolute commitment.