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Tonight we'll read a snooze cast original titled Maggie's Start Date. Maggie's the Green Family's loyal dog. However, she may have ambitions beyond being a household pet. Let's get cozy. Close your eyes. Relax your body into the softness of your bed. Now, take a few deep breaths. A splintered oak branch lay in front of Maggie's doghouse, blocking access to the chocolate labs preferred late afternoon napping spot.

Two weeks ago, on August 1, a Saturday, it fell in the backyard of the Green Families Home

at 108 Ambrose Street during a summer storm that flashed through the neighborhood at 3 a.m. Most folks slept in on Ambrose Street on the weekends with the sole exception of Marshall Harp. he owned the local landscaping business and realized a certain satisfaction at being up before everyone else. But even Mr. Harp's earliest alarm didn't chime until 430 in the morning. And so it could be said there was not a single witness to the squall, despite the den. But if there was, they would have watched as the heavy, lower limb of the large tree, eventually way to the wind and came down with a loud thud directly in front of Maggie's small yellow shack complete with white trim. had picked the colors. When her father, Mr. Green was building the doghouse last year, she had wandered over while he was painting on the primer. Lily had asked, are you painting Maggie's house white? Well, this is just the undercoat, Lily. You paint this on before you paint the color. Oh, she paused. What color are you going to paint it? Well, I was just about to head to the store, sweet pea. Want to help me pick? Lily agreed. On the ride over, Lily became momentarily concerned that Maggie wouldn't be able to enjoy the color of her new house because she remembered her sometimes friend Aubrey had told her, dogs can't see color. Mr. Green remarked that he didn't believe that was entirely true, and in the parking lot of Jim's hardware and paint, he pulled up an article on his phone. Turns out their canine family member could see shades of yellow and blue, so that set up the framework for their eventual choice. Lily picked Canary Yellow, since it reminded her of the lemon bars her mother would make for special occasions. Mr. Green paid Mr. Jim as Lily had called him, and by the next day Maggie's new house was finished. Maggie didn't say anything of course, but the Greens could tell she appreciated these new accommodations. Maggie still slept indoors, but now she had a choice. The morning after the storm, most of the neighborhood was out, surveying the damage, an uprooted birch for the Tanakaus. A shredded rhododendron for the Armstrongs, and it looked like a dead tree crunched through Mr. Squires' woodshed. His next door neighbors, the Garcia's, had considered that tree an eye sore, and although they had late heartedly asked Mr. Squire to remove it multiple times, they were still not pleased to see this destructive irony. The Greens only had the oak to deal with, but it was a very large branch, and would need to be segmented. Mr. Green had realized this, looking out the window, sipping his coffee. His son, Rob, had come bounding down the stairs. Whoa, Dad, did you see the backyard? I guess you're excited for the extra yard work, huh? His father teased. No can do, Dad. I've got to work on my esponule. Rob was going to Barcelona with his junior-year Spanish class at the end of September.

He started to sneak a bit of coffee. Hey, mostly milk, all right? Mr. Greenhead said, robber blodged and joined his father looking out the kitchen window into the backyard. They watched as Maggie briefly attempted to remove the branch by her own accord, but the weight of the errant limb proved too heavy. Maggie whimpered softly and gave up. Later that day, as the greens were enjoying lunch on their front porch, Marshall harp walked up with a big grin and inquired if they needed any yard work done, considering the storm. I'm offering half off my usual rate for the coldest sack. Neighbors have got to stick together, am I right? He smiled again. The greens were the last house for him to visit that day, and so far his pitch had had a 100% success rate. Mr. Green had considered it for a moment and looked over at Mrs. Green. Her slight frown and raised eyebrow meant they were on the same page. Some people you just don't like, even when you don't have a good reason for it. Even against your best interest. Something about giving that early morning jogging, whistling while he works. Early bird catches the worm, Mr. Harp. The satisfaction of taking care of their tree problem, didn't sit right with either of them, even though it was for a great price. Rob and Lily ignored this small conversation, and were focused on their tuna sandwiches. Maggie, however, seemed to be extremely interested with this exchange and alternated looking between Mr. and Mrs. Green and Mr. Harp. Thanks, Mr. Green had finally said, but I was going to take care of it myself this afternoon. Well, Mr. Harper replied as he began backing away. Let me know if you change your mind. Have a great day. He walked off and started whistling. Oh, my darling, Clementine. Mrs. Green shook her head and wanted to complain about Mr. Harp's irksome manner to Mr. Green, but had decided a long time ago to not set a bad example for the kids. She decided instead to ask the practical question. Honey, how are you going to deal with it? I've still got the chainsaw. Shouldn't be a problem at all. But it was a problem. The chainsaw had a bad spark plug. It took Mr. Green the rest of the evening to figure that out. By the time he finally got it replaced, a crisis at his publishing firm had developed. Mr. Green was scant on details, but needless to say, it took up most of his time. And so, two weeks had passed, and the oak limb remained steadfast, where it had originally landed, much to Maggie's dismay. On August 15th, Mr. Green woke up feeling good. The problem at his firm had been adequately resolved, and he was looking forward to enjoying what was left of the summer. He wandered downstairs and started a pot of coffee. He looked out the kitchen window and softly tutted as he stared into the backyard. Of course he thought he resolved that today would finally be the day he would deal with the tree problem. He put on some slippers and walked out the front door to grab the mail from yesterday. He dropped the pile on the kitchen table. In the interim Mrs. Green had arrived for her morning cup as well. Morning, hun. Mr. Green said Mrs. Green yawned morning. Mr. Green began preparing pancakes for breakfast as Mrs. Green started to leaf through the mail. There were lilies immunization records from Dr. Bowtie for her first grade admission. A note from the administration about Rob's upcoming Barcelona trip reminding the Greens of dead lines to ensure smooth and safe travels. A letter from the Votech School where Mrs. Green taught technical drafting and design about the upcoming calendar year and a whole bunch of junk mail. Mrs. Green finally got around to inspecting the unsolicited correspondence. She noticed what looked like a promo from that new bank on the Esplanade. Look at that, she said, and pointed to the name on the envelope. It's addressed to Margaret. Margaret Green. This must be someone else's mail. What's the address listed as, Mr. Green asked? 108 Ambrose Street. Well that's us. Unless they mean Maggie. Her husband laughed. Why would they send a letter to Maggie? Must just be a mistake. I don't know. Maybe it's some kind of marketing strategy. I mean, we're talking about it, right?

Mrs. Green blew air out of her nose and slate amusement.

They get your attention by addressing the male to your dog. I mean, this is definitely the most effective junk male have come across.

Well, what does it say?

Mr. Green asked, while mixing the pancake batter. His wife opened the letter and read it, quickly at first, but then again, and to Mr. Green's amusement, a third time before she paused to think.

Mrs. Green looked at her husband, looked back at the letter, then she looked out the big bay window. There, barefoot and in rled sweats, Rob tugged gently at Maggie's leash. The lab circled one of her favorite spots near the mailbox. Rob noticed his mother watching and gave a casual wave. Okay, you got me. Mrs. Green addressed her husband finally. What do you mean, he said, waiting for the big reveal? He enjoyed this little stick. Mrs. Green was apparently apparently putting on but wasn't sure of its trajectory

Or if she would stick the landing

Mrs. Green held the letter high up to her brow

Elbow bent at a right angle as if displaying evidence to a jury

Exhibit A, she announced, a practical joke by you and perhaps Rob. She glanced outside again, quickly searching for the second culprit, her son had already brought Maggie out to come in through the mudroom. Mr. Green laughed. I still don't know what you're talking about. Come on, what's it say? Here Mrs. Green handed the letter to her husband, waiting for him to crack a smile, proof that her theory was correct. Mr. Green's countenance appeared bewildered, though as he accepted the letter, she knew him well, and this reaction was genuine. He read the letter and laughed, thankful to be in on the joke. Now it was his turn to scan Mrs. Green's face for signs of explanation, but it was clear they were none from her. Mr. Green scratched his chin and Mrs. Green wrinkled her nose. Rob, they called for their son in unison. Most mysteries led back to Rob. Many classic cases were solved by the couple over the years, including who left the milk out and why is it so loud in here. Rob came in with Maggie in tow. Hey, what's up? Oh, is that the male? Perfect. So it was you, Mr. Green asked. Another open and shut case, he thought. Was what? I just wanted to see if my passport came in. Raw began rifling through the stack. You didn't send this letter? Rob read it quickly. His parents love to play lame, practical jokes on each other and wasn't looking forward to being the foil in another dud. See plus effort, he thought. Yeah, no, he said, good luck with that one. The couple looked back at each other, and without saying anything, both agreed that Rob was incapable of subterfuge for an extended period of time. Well, Mr. Green said, walking over to the fridge. I guess the mystery of he paused for a moment, trying to think of a good who-done-it title. The dog that wanted to work at the bank remains unsolved. You could always ask Maggie. Robb said as he retreated upstairs. Maggie hurried over to her now full food bowl and ate with the appropriate amount of dignity for a dog. Mrs. Green considered this and studied the well-loved pooch who could easily be confused with a shop vac at this current moment. Mr. Green removed the magnet that held up the newest photo the family had put on the fridge. A picture of the four at Carl's Bad Caverns from earlier in the summer. First one on, first one out, he thought, and pinned the letter to the fridge. He took the red pen out of his breast pocket and wrote, exhibit A in the top right corner. The letter red. water, Margaret Green, Waterfield Bank is delighted to offer you the position of head teller at our Warner Avenue branch. Your start date is September 15th. A welcome packet will arrive in the coming weeks before your start date with orientation instructions. Please review it completely and carefully and keep a copy for your records. Personally, let me just say, we are very excited to find an individual whose values align with our bank's mission and to be onboarding someone of your caliber and personal zeal will be a great addition to the Waterfield Bank community. Please don't pause to reach out if you have any questions. We warmly anticipate your arrival. Sincerely, Charlie Tate, Pink Manager, Waterfield Bank, Warner Avenue. The letter fluttered for a moment in the breeze from the mudroom window. Maggie, who had finished eating at this point, licked her lips and put her face flat on the linoleum. She wagged her brown tail. She was content. Mr. and Mrs. Green watched her for a moment longer. Maggie closed her eyes and took one of those naps. She was famous for her week. The curious letter was an amusing anecdote for the Green family. Mr. Green brought it up during his weekly teleconference meeting at the firm. Lily bragged to Aubrey that Maggie was smarter than Aubrey's dog bonkers. This was true in either case. And Mrs. Green mentioned it to her colleagues on professional development day, two weeks before the start of the school year. She had been teaching for 15 years, so she

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