“Hey Dad, it’s Brute. Spencerville living is a blast! Between pizza crusts at Pup-Tastic and wagging tails at Bark ‘n’ Roll, my time here has been paw-fect. Adopted a celeb life as Pet Bachelor, believe it or not. But amongst the leggy Dane’s, flashy Poodles, it’s modest Bella who stole my heart. Strangely, she carries a tinge of your scent. She won me over cause she likes plain old Brutus, not the limelight hound. Life is different, but good. Sniff you soon, figuratively! Love, Brutus Bulldog.”

The day poked its pink fingers over the horizon, and my beefy, wrinkled paws slapping the pavement echoed around Spencerville. I, Brutus Bulldog, was off to the Pup-Tastic Pizza, my usual jaunt after soaking in the morning charm of our Spotted Red Beagle Beach.

“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” Clifford the Cocker Spaniel hadn’t missed the wistful gaze in my eyes. And as the name suggests, he was rather…cocker sure.

“Yeah… pizza crusts at Pup-Tastic, the loveliest sight every morning.” I grunted. But Clifford’s smirk suggested he wasn’t buying my bluff.

Life in Spencerville had its charm. I missed my father, his tug-of-war games and the light in his eyes when I would nail that frisbee catch. But then again, the popcorn pops at Bark ‘n’ Roll, the juicy steaks at The Canine Cafe, and the camaraderie of my peers, it wasn’t depressing either.

“Welcome to the Pet Bachelor, Brutus. Day One! Be your charming self,” yelped Labrador Larry with his wagging tail.

But there was this new wrinkle in my life. Spencerville’s own version of ‘The Bachelor.’ Me, at the center, and the town’s charming dames vying for my affection. Who knew a bulldog with my girth and my love for rawhide bones could trigger such interest!

Local belle French Poodle Fifi, with her coquettish glance, Great Dane Daisy’s imposing presence, and Beagle Bella’s endearing charm… a circle of contenders around a bachelor like me.

The first date was at Pupsicle Palace. The ladies had their frosty treat eyes on me, but my eyes? Truth be told, they slipped towards the Southern Golden Retriever River, half expecting to see my dad appear with a chuck of rawhide for me. I missed him, and this sudden limelight felt overwhelming.

The month slipped by, filled with wooing walks on Silver Siberian Summit, romantic dinners at Pup-Tastic Pizza, and several park outings. I loved the outings, reminded me of those sun-soaked days with my dad and Rocky. I couldn’t shake off the feeling though. The ladies, they loved Brutus the bachelor, not Brutus Bulldog.

It struck before the final week. In the solitude of The Wagging Tail Bookstore, amid John Grisham’s ‘The Whistler,’ my eyes caught a spotted tail. Bella! She carried a tinge of my dad’s scent. Her company was comforting, similar to Caesar’s. No false pretense, no flashy display, just simple camaraderie.

“My heart belongs in Spencerville, not on a show,” I confessed to Bella that day. Bella, the modest Beagle, whom I barely noticed amid the glamour of Great Danes and French Poodles.

“Good,” she said as she leant in, her earnest eyes met mine, “because I fell for the bulldog who played frisbee with his dad, who jumped a mile if a vacuum cleaner was on, and grumbled when forced a bath, the bulldog who hated solitude.”

My heart knew its person. In Bella, I found a friend, a partner, someone who knew that beneath this burly exterior and celebrity persona, it was the simple Brutus Bulldog, with an infectious energy and a love for rawhide bones – just waiting for his turn to return to his dad.

The End.