Hey Ma & Pa, So, I’ve been having a blast here in Spencerville – don’t worry, I’m behaving! I’m spending my days exploring. I even overcame my disinterest in toys when I caught a whiff of a fish biscuit concoction at The Howling Husky. Embarrassingly got stuck in an aisle when the alarm went off, but came out a hero. It was me, Vincent, the formerly toy-hating Newfoundland, holding a biscuit-stuffed pickle! Let’s just say it’s never dull here. Oh, and tell Dad he might find a surprise waiting for him at The Howling Husky’s tool section. Just a random guess. Love, Vincent your Bear Cub.

Once upon a time, I found myself living in Spencerville. A sprightly town where we dear departed pets take the form of an ethereal retirement. This fantastical place was so vivid it could script the stuff of canine fantasies. Ah, the places here – Pup-Peroni for a spot of dinner and Spa for Paws for a bit of luxury. Ah, but allow me to introduce myself, for manners dictate. I am Vincent, your narrator. Just a simple, freckle-coated Newfoundland from right here in Spencerville.

Dear readers, you remember my distaste for water and our adventurous exploits by the beach, I assume? Well, in Spencerville, I can sit right by the edge of the Southern Golden Retriever River and just observe. Ah, the paradox continues, don’t you think?

Now, cling on to my coattails as I take you on the whimsical tale of my day in Spencerville, as I brave… the Howling Husky hardware store. As many recall, toys and I, we do not traditionally harmonize well. But I had caught wind of a rumour – a new pickle toy, filled with an infinite swarm of fish biscuits promised to those brave enough to venture the Howling Husky.

A conundrum, right? Bravery, me and toys? Grinning at the irony, I ventured forth. Even adding a trilby for dramatic effect. The jungle of squeaky-toys and bouncy balls, the clash of collars all twinkling under the overhead lights – I felt like a concert pianist about to perform a sonata at a death metal concert. Amusing? Yes, definitely. Terrifying? Mildly.

I found the aisle I sought; it called out to me, promising biscuits of fishiness if only I braved the toys. And just as I was to claim my fishy prize, the alarm went off. Wailing like a banshee, I darted to the nearest refuge. In a twist of fate, that refuge happened to be the pickle toys I’d dreaded a moment before.

As the alarm ceased and calming classical tracks began playing (Beethoven, I believe; a classy choice), I noticed my trilby was squashed under a toy pickle. C’est la vie! I sat there contemplating, my audience the entire pet denizens of Spencerville. An awkward silence enveloped, where even the symphonies of Beethoven on the PA echoed.

I emerged from my shelter and picked up the toy, my priced biscuit stuffed trophy. An ironic applause resonated through the store, a mutual understanding among us pets. You see, dearest reader, in Spencerville we pets always have a moment’s tale to tell.

As I sauntered towards Bark ‘n’ Roll, with my fish filled pickle and squash-trilby, I chuckled to myself. I was living an unexpected fairy-tale, ironically dipped in dog biscuits. Oh, what a life in Spencerville.

One could only hope Dad got as much applause when he encountered a new tool set waiting for him at The Howling Husky Hardware store.

The End.