- Dog Tales
- August 29, 2023
Jazzy PawWord Story
“Hey Mom, it’s Jazzy! Had quite the day here in the canine paradise of Spencerville. We noticed a suspicious mound of kibble on our morning promenade, but decided it was too shady to dig into. More mystery snacks keep popping up…and we’re on the case! Till I see you again, sending wet nose boops and tail wags. xo – Jaz Bug”
These were commonplace occurrences to Jazzy and I, tucked away cozily in good ol’ Spencerville. I’m Jax, by the by, the charming wire-haired terrier mentioned afore. Jazzy and me, we’re more than just neighborhood dogs who pass the time of day. We’re partners, y’see, partners in the business of diggin’ up confounding happenstances that would give the average canine pause.
After we’d pass greetin’ and chuffin’ at the sun’s first light, we’d promenade ourselves about Spencerville, a place tail-waggin’ly perfect with locales width the names soundin’ like pardoning nods to our ancestry, like Southern Golden Retriever River, Bullmastiff Boardwalk, and Upper Collie Canyon.
We dined at The Barkery and Waggle n’ Wok, spending’ our free time at The Doggie Daycare or Pooch Playhouse. Every eve, we’d find ourselves at The Woofy Bakery, where we’d chew the fat, and the delectable pastries.
This one morn, mid-tip and tail wag wi’ Jazzy by my side, we encountered somethin’ queer. Right there, in the midst of Bullmastiff Boardwalk lay a mound of kibble tastier lookin’ than the daily rations Jazzy n’ I were privy to. I’ll testify to Jazzy’s love for chow, especially one smellin’ like her human mom’s particular delicacy, cinnamon bread. Yet, here she stood, a stone’s throw from an ambrosial feast, lookin’ on with skeptic’s eyes.
She sniffed the air, ’twas naught but a tempting breeze dancing with pasta scents. But Jazzy’s fondness for the hearty grub was overpowered by her inherent protectiveness. Feeling dutiful, she sniffed, narrowed her chocolate eyes, and said, “Somethin’s amiss, Jax, ain’t smellin’ right. This here’s too easy, too inviting.”
That day, we decided not to sniff into it further, but did acknowledge that something mighty strange was occurring. Tales of mysteriously appearing mountains of kibble started to be whispered around Spencerville. Jazzy and I knew we had a peculiar phenomenon to bury our snouts in.
So that’s us, two partners in Spencerville tryin’ to whittle away mysteries, while savorin’ the life we’ve got. Here in this near perfect hamlet, we’re all just waitin’, biding our time till we meet our loving humans again. Until then, we got quirks to relish, mysteries to paw at, and most importantly, a bond as unbreakable as a diamond-studded collar.
The End.
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