Hey, Mom & Dad! Tail-wagged my way through another day at Spencerville. Chomped on dollar cookies, avoided the dreaded vet. Wished Barkley & Biggie were here. Missed my canine siblings, Sampson and Marley, and relished in the love these peeps here shower on me. Oh, and skipped swimming! Who needs that, anyway? Until we’re reunited, sending puppy kisses. – Fenny 🐾

Listen to the story here.

On the idyllic banks of Southern Golden Retriever River, in charming Spencerville, an extraordinary tale is unfolding. Our protagonist, our hero, none other than Fenway, the white and brown bulldog of immense personality lives his days. His disposition is unique and adventurous, never veering from the coy stubbornness that is characteristic of him.

I stare at his well-worn tennis ball, mournfully missing him. A layer of dust has begun to settle upon it, time marking its passage. Clamped often between his jaws, it was a symbol of his mirth, his jubilant spirit. His love for his red stuffed toy and harmless plastic bottle mirrored that for life.

Step with me now into The Doggy Bagel Deli, where Fenway would dive into his favorite bowl of ‘dollar cookies’ or the even more mouth-watering chicken treat. I can see his eyes light up as that cream sandwich cookie he loved, that one odd delicacy, vanishes between his lips.

Strangers could find no more loyal friend; he wore his protective nature as a badge. If only I could bring him round to the lake… but, oh no, Fenway was notorious for his aversion to certain places, activities, and items. Why, he’d pick the Dalmatian Desert over the Maltese Meadow any day. His dislike was well-known: bananas, cats, the vet, and that irksome delivery man appeared on his list, as surely as snow, swimming, and the occasional bath.

Barkley, his English Bulldog friend from across the pond, or Biggie, the party animal, the unique diversity in friendship of Fenway is a sight to behold. If only he could envisage the wisdom of Spencer, the pug in the business suit, he would appreciate the love that Spencerville and its’ residents have for him. Is it his independent spirit, or the tranquil aura that calls out to them?

I take a stroll through Spencerville, gaze upon Canine Couture Clothing, and miss the sight of Fenway and his family, his brother Sampson, the marauder of basketballs, and Marley, the little pug. They are a charming bunch, each with their own quirks.

Paddling through their stories, the daily dramas, the mischief, the chaos, we understand the life in Spencerville. In this utopia, all pets can be appreciated, loved, and remembered even after they’re gone. I realize then, Fenway, Sampson, Marley will continue to enrich life, their memories lurking in every corner of this near-perfect town. They will be missed, yet cherished.

Spencerville is not an ending, but a transition, a precious bridge connecting our lives with theirs, where we will one day be reunited.

The End.