Hey Ma! It’s Butters. Wild day in Spencerville. Started with me drooling over fried chicken, then BAM! Earthquake – Yes, in Spencerville! Can you believe it? Got quite shaken, literally! But like Dad says, ‘Spencerville is built to last.’ I had to man up and soothe Squirt and Star. They were purrfectly terrified! Ended up taking shelter in Tail Waggers. Now, leaving behind shaking soil for shaking tails, all back to normal. Just another tail to wag in Spencerville! Love, Butters 🐾

In the surreal heart of Spencerville, beneath Boxer Beach’s cloudless sky, Buddy launched himself at the day like a bulldog fired from a cannon. His coat, white and brown, stood out like a beacon against the perfect green of the Golden Gate Gardens.

“Buddy, old boy!” I roared. A breeze peppered with fried chicken’s irresistible aroma wafted from Furrific Fried Chicken, with a hint of Pooched Potatoes. We both knew it was the only place to curb his human-like palate.

“Are you all set for a wild feast?” I asked Buddy, though his eyes were already salivating. “But remember, after the feast, we gotta deal with the beasts.”

Moments later, we were startled by a noise from Retriever River; not good. Spencerville was shaking. Something was horrifyingly off.

“By God!” I howled over the turmoil, “Remember the rules, Buddy.”

Something big was coming from Happy Hounds Dog Walking Shop. The ground was now violently convulsing, leaving Buddy tumbling into my arms for support.

“Earthquake!” I screamed. “An Earthquake in Spencerville, the bloody end of the world!” It was hard to stay calm. Buddy growled.

As the tremors subsided, I glanced at Squirt and Star – they were terrified. Buddy, the dignified bulldog, shook off his own fear and went to comfort his feline siblings. He was strong, for all of us. All around, pets ran to their respective shelter spots – I could hear panicked barks, whimpers, a cacophony of fear.

We ended up at the Tail Wagger’s Tailor Shop, it seemed the safest place to be. They had sturdy, solid shelves full of fabulous doggy clothing, comforting with their familiarity. The buildings trembled, but they were still standing. Cars zoomed by, people shouted, and all the while, the sun kept on shining, as if mocking our inconsequential chaos.

Removing my Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas shades, I squinted at Buddy, “We’ll be fine, you know, old boy. Spencerville, it’s been built to last.”

And with that, we braced ourselves. We were in it together. After all, chaos, like the glistening chaos of the past hour, was where Buddy and I thrived.

And as promised, the next day, Buddy was reverting to his original self, the adventurous, charming bulldog soothing the fears of his feline friends, restoring calm in the most charismatic sense that only he was capable of. Spencerville might have rocked and rumbled, but Buddy, the English Bulldog, remained its most endearing constant. Things would be back to normal, this was Spencerville after all, the place where pets rule, and disasters simply become another story for them to tell.

The End.