It was race day. Everyone in our village was eagerly waiting to watch the tortoise race the hare. The announcers had just finished calling out bets for each contestant. The dirt felt hot on my paw-pads that day. I sniffed the air, and soft tones of honey and lavender flew into my snout. I ran to the start of the race and asked my friend the hare what her tactic was. “I’m going to just run as fast as I can, then the tortoise will never stand a chance against me,” she responded. Satisfied, I walked away from the starting line to watch the race begin. Sure enough, when the monkeys announced the start of the race, the hare was out of my eyesight far before the tortoise. 

Anticipating a quick finish, I took the shortcut to the end of the race and waited, and waited, until eventually the sky was reddening and the sun moved to the west. Then, despite all odds, I saw him - the tortoise, that is, approaching the finish line. I was stunned! Somehow he managed to pull through ahead of the hare. Sure enough, the tortoise crossed the line when a small white ball of fluff could be seen quickly approaching; it was the hare. The poor thing looked like she was attacked by a lion. When she crossed the finish line, shame was the only thing she expressed. 

Asking her what happened, she explained that she had decided to take a nap in the middle, because she was so far ahead of the tortoise. But, she overslept, and the tortoise was too far ahead of her. By the time I went over to the old tortoise, he was already swarmed with pawperazzi, and all he said was- “slow and steady wins the race.”