“Hey Mom, grand day playing fetch at Chihuahua Castle turned into sniffing out real trouble! Can you believe it, a whopper of a whirlpool threatening to chomp down Spencerville! Going to rally the canine troops, fight this mutt of a disaster. Hate alarm you on such a sunny day, but if I nettle through this, promise, no more veggies! You know I mean business now! -SammyDoodleBug”

Listen to the story here.

Another bright day in Spencerville was underway, but I could sniff disaster wafting through West Labradoodle Lake wind. Fan of the breeze, I am. But this held the pestilence of trouble. It’s like when the vet walks in with those shiny, pointy instruments. There’s an unmistakable dread, I tell ya.

Roxy and I had just finished our usual bout of show-stealing gymnastics at the Northern Choco Chihuahua Castle. Even the dappled sunlight seemed to cheer us on, dancing off my peanut-butter spotted fur and Roxy’s spirited jump-and-twirls. Ah, life was a luscious bone in Spencerville, just waiting to be chewed.

“Hey Sammy, catch!” Roxy shot out the words as fast as she shot out my beloved tennis ball. Like an old vaudeville act on puppet strings, I sprang after it. Dog heaven, that’s what playing ball with sunlight bathing your fur and the Chihuahua Castle as your backdrop is.

But I caught more than the ball; that ominous scent hit me again. Disaster, and not the kind wherein I’m left alone at home or, heavens forbid, take a bath. Something big was coming. My heart drummed a warning, and being a Beagle mix, my instincts were sharp. Unexpected adults I’m wary of, yes, but disaster? Disaster was new.

Urging Roxy to clamp down on her Rabbit’s Foot-shaped biscuit from Bark n’ Roll, I followed my snout. Wading through the patio diners at K9 Kebabs, we veered around Bone Appetit and towards the Eastern Bulldog Bay. A whirl of fluttering seagulls escorted us with their raucous symphony. Thy beak shall blow the disaster whistle, eh?

And there it was. A swirling, monstrous whirlpool in the bay, threatening all of Spencerville. Smaller than a hurricane, bigger than my fear for the vet, it was a boat-chewing, dog-sucking catastrophe waiting to happen. Was this it? Was this the end of our little slice of peanut-butter smeared heaven? Would the day come when I wouldn’t see my human mom again?

I’ve chased my tail, looked it in the eye, and I’ve stared disaster in the face now. It awaited, jaws open, ready to gulp down our town. But before I let that happen, I’d eat a vegetable. And that was saying something. The furry residents of Spencerville had a paw to lend, and I was about to lead them with stubborn resolve and unwavering loyalty, into halting the doggone disaster. What’s life but one big adventure with a tennis ball in tow?

The End.