Call me cuckoo or paint me bonkers, but Spencerville—Thor’s wonky corner of the cosmos—that’s where it all unfolded. Thor, the mighty Bulldog, hailing from an exotic blend of carmine, caramel, and pure white. His unique mark—those goddam ink-black rimmed eyes, making it look like a drunken makeup artist gone rogue with a tube of eyeliner—a beacon in this little corner of our mind-spun universe.

The moment I lay eyes on Thor, I knew—here was a bull of a Bulldog that would heroically conquer fields and shower his enemies in torrents of slobber, yet somehow tremble at the mere whiff of a chlorinated pool. I can still hear his squeaky pig toy—his prized possession—how he toyed with it, challenged it in a gruesome tug of war. It was a sight for sore eyes, not unlike the burnt end of a Dodger Dog on a Saturday noon.

It was all hunky-dory around these parts, but then, impromptu events started popping up like sinister mushrooms in a forgotten corner of a fairy garden. One couldn’t quite pin the tail on them. You ever try nailing jelly to the wall, compadre? That’s what we were dealing with.

It began with the menacing hum of the vacuum cleaner—that soul-sucking electric demon, seemingly ordinary, benign even—turned wickedly sentient. The bugger had turned on all by itself, whizzing around the house like a rogue, causing a ruckus. Dogs aren’t one to panic, but old Thor was at his wit’s end.

And then, there was that dastardly incident at the Shih Tzu Stadium. Those darned spotlights turned blood-red, flickering in rhythm with Thor’s howl, a symphony of absolute peculiarity. Later, we found him in Bullmastiff Boardwalk, his formidable body shaking as if he had seen the ghost of canine past, his face staring into the unnerving expanse of darkness.

Life dribbled on, one peculiar episode dovetailing into another gnarly mess. We had the K9 Kebabs pulling a Poltergeist on us, the skewers doing a jiggle and charbroiling themselves. Bark ‘n’ Roll ran out of buns, swearing by the dog star Sirius, they had not sold a single burger, while The Pawfect Training Center saw its training apparatus floating in mid-air in broad daylight.

Our indulgence in the chaos, the quicksand pulling us deeper into the belly of the beast, was perhaps our cardinal mistake, but hell, could you blame us? All we wanted was to understand. The story of Thor, that of Spencerville. Was it a mad cosmic joke, or did we tune into the uncanny frequency of pet heaven?

Unknown, wild, and as unpredictable as Thor’s fear of veggies—this, my friends, was Spencerville. Where it was hailed, every dog has its day, then poor Thor decided to have a lifetime. A saga narrated through me, the eyewitness who beheld the unusual in the mundane.

You dig, compadre? If Thor was the brave knight, then I was his chronicler. And as bewildering as the notes of our tune were, we composed the symphony nonetheless. The symphony named – Thor in Spencerville.

Hey Mom,

You won’t believe the canine chaos in Spencerville! I waged war with my squeaky pig, faced a demonic vacuum cleaner that went rogue, and got shook at the Shih Tzu Stadium when the darn spotlights went bonkers! Spencerville’s going mad, Mom! We had burgers disappear at Bark ‘n’ Roll, skewers dancing on their own at K9 Kebabs, and training gear floating at The Pawfect Center.

Yep, strange things are brewing, Mom. But don’t worry. I am Thor, the mighty bulldog, your own Thorcito, a.k.a Burrito. I promise…I’m managing the madness!🐶💪🌪️

Woofs and licks,
Thorcito (Burrito)

Listen to the story here.