I don’t know what you’d feed a luck dragon to get him to hang out with you and be the bouncer of your back yard. But on Leap Year, when that dizzy planet made its four year spin back into Earth’s orbit, I watched as the alchemists did their best to lure him out and turn their silver into gold.
It did seem to be the perfect day to bet on red (or black), to double down, to up the ante. But I learned a long time ago that the soft side of fortune can be backed by a razor sharp edge. I’d rather not court the favor of the Fates, or rely too much on rabbit’s feet or four-leaf clovers.
So amidst the palm trees and the roulette wheels and the coconut-scented breeze, I bought my own luck dragon and brought him home to live my altar.