Hey Dad, it’s your Beast. Life here in Spencerville is gold. I’ve become the town’s mascot, light up everyone’s day in my own gabby way. My afternoons are either at ‘Pup-Tizers,’ eating steak (diet starts tomorrow, promised), or in the park with my crew Amy and Izzy. Fans say, the crew and I are quite the sight at the ‘Groom Room.’

I’ve been trying to figure out this cat and bath thing yet, but no luck. Oh, I hang at Upper Black Bulldog Bay every nightfall, singing your song to the stars. Because I believe you can hear me.

Well, the big quiet is tough, Dad. But loyalty is my middle name. Not forgetting that promise. Here’s to someday. Love, Gabby.

There was a serenity that cloaked the vibrant town of Spencerville, where the languid stretch of Bulldog Bay hummed with an orchestrated symphony. Gabby, our beloved cream-white French Bulldog, was living like a queen in the lap of this abundantly beautiful town.

After all, she was nestled comfortably in the good graces of Northern Choco Chihuahua Castle, her father’s nurturing sanctum. Resplendent with her sparkling personality that could illuminate the darkest of days, Gabby was Spencerville’s green-eyed girl. And rightly so, as her vivacious energy, coupled with a tender warmth, gave you comfort, just like the quaint charm of the town that was her abode.

My tales from an afternoon spent at ‘Pup-Tizers’ restaurant are filled to the brim with Gabby’s keen involvement, holding down a conversation pretty well for a dog. Gabby, while feasting on a richly flavoured steak, would declare – “The diet begins tomorrow!” The laughter that followed was a sweet reward for her unyielding spirit.

The park was Gabby’s stage; her chance to channel that pent-up energy. A wild charade often played out there among her, Amy, and Izzy. It was characteristic of her presence, though bit stubborn, but loyal and friendly.

Standing at ‘The Groom Room,’ Gabby’s devotion to Amy and Izzy, her adored compatriots, was a tale fondly heard and told by many. For Gabby, family was not just an anchor but the very currents that emboldened her sail. She loved them with a fervour that competed with her dislike for cats, baths, and the desolate quiet of her alone-time.

As days rolled into nights, Gabby would sit by the window, her eyes scanning the far-off mountains, her mind wandering back to her dad, a sorrowful longing filling her gaze. She knew the lore – that one day they will be reunited. And she clung to it, like a pup to its mother. The wait, heartbreaking though it may be, kindled the hopeful embers in her heart.

Every evening, under the shimmering starlight of Spencerville, one could often find Gabby at Upper Black Bulldog Bay, singing her dad’s favourite song, believing that it might reach him, that he could hear his spirited Gabby, still waiting. Patient, faithful and ever resilient. Spencerville was not just Gabby’s world, it was her love letter to her dad. And each night, she would write it, under the watchful heavens, waiting for him, holding on to the promise of their reunion.

The End.