Simba, the Welsh Corgi, was a paradox. He was a small dog with a big heart, a gentle soul with a fearless spirit, and a city dweller with a country job. He was a cattle herder, and not just any cattle herder, but a herder of runaway cattle. Now, you might be thinking, “A Corgi? Herding cattle? Isn’t that a job for a Border Collie or an Australian Shepherd?” Well, yes, traditionally, but Simba was anything but traditional.

Simba lived in a small apartment in the heart of the city with his human, Sarah. Sarah was a freelance graphic designer who worked from home, which meant she was always available for belly rubs and games of fetch. But despite the comfortable city life, Simba had a calling. He was a herder at heart. He would herd anything he could find – socks, slippers, even Sarah’s unsuspecting guests. But his favorite thing to herd was cattle.

Every weekend, Sarah would drive Simba out to a farm on the outskirts of the city. The farm was owned by an old man named Bill, who had a herd of cattle that were notorious for escaping their pen. Bill was too old to chase after them, and his own dog, a Border Collie named Max, was too lazy. So, Simba took on the job.

Now, herding cattle is no easy task, especially for a small dog like Simba. The cattle were big, stubborn, and had a tendency to wander off. But Simba was fearless. He would dart in and out of the herd, nipping at their heels and barking commands. The cattle, confused and slightly annoyed, would begrudgingly follow his lead.

One day, a particularly stubborn cow named Bessie decided she’d had enough of Simba’s bossiness. She broke away from the herd and made a run for it. Simba, not one to back down from a challenge, took off after her. The chase was on.

Bessie was fast, but Simba was faster. He darted around her, barking and nipping at her heels. But Bessie was not deterred. She kept running, heading straight for a busy highway. Simba’s heart pounded in his chest. He couldn’t let Bessie get to the highway. He had to stop her.

With a burst of energy, Simba sprinted ahead of Bessie and positioned himself between her and the highway. He barked loudly, trying to get her to stop. But Bessie was in a panic. She didn’t see Simba. She didn’t hear his barks. She just kept running.

In the last moment, Simba did the only thing he could think of. He threw himself in front of Bessie. Bessie skidded to a halt, just inches away from Simba. She mooed in surprise, then turned around and trotted back towards the farm.

Simba, exhausted but triumphant, followed her back. He had done it. He had saved Bessie. He was a hero.

Back at the farm, Bill and Sarah were waiting. They had seen the whole thing. They rushed over to Simba, showering him with praise and affection. But Simba didn’t care about the praise. He didn’t do it for the recognition. He did it because he was loyal. He was a herder. And he loved his job.

That night, as Simba curled up on his favorite spot on the couch, he felt a sense of satisfaction. He had done his job. He had saved Bessie. He had proven that he was more than just a city dog. He was a herder. And he was damn good at it.

So, the next time you see a small dog with a big heart, don’t underestimate them. They might just surprise you. Just like Simba, the Welsh Corgi who herds runaway cattle.