“Dad, hustling in Spencerville, missing you. All-you-can-chomp deer legs, no kamikaze postmen, evolving for reunion. Managed some salad battles, leaves one at a time. Spencerville, buckle in, ‘Cause Perce is running things now. Bark soon. – Fleabag”

Listen to the story here.

Alright, let me set the stage for you. Picture it, Spencerville, the happily departed’s playground. I got thrown into this whirligig not too long ago. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s peachy here – the endless supply of deer legs, disregard for vacuums, absence of unappreciated postmen, and can you digest this: an endless treat dispensary! I mean, talk about staggering.

But let me tell you, Percy – that’s me – had to chew some serious sticks to gain a foothold here. There was this whole dramatic re-enactment of fitting in, mingling, you know, the usual, plus a dash of two-toned charm tossed in.

My first glimpse of Spencerville was as perplexing as the time my human had left an entire turkey on the kitchen counter. I mean, come on, a restaurant named Pupperoni Pizza? But like the turkey episode, I soon found a way to devour the scenery and routines of this place.

I hit up the Fetching Deli first, because, why not? Satiating my whimsical palate, I chatted up the patrons, catching up on juicy gossips about happy hounds from the Boardwalk or the latest diva tales from the Corgi Castle.

The central hub, though, was the Woof and Whisker Wellness Center. Physically, I could’ve given Atlas a run for his money. But hey, a spa’s a spa – a dog’s gotta look good to feel good.

What I didn’t expect was the ethical quandrum. You see, the fine folks of Spencerville had this idea of progress; you had to ‘evolve,’ to prove your worth for your eventual reunion with your loved one. Apparently, casually stealing cat food, chewing contentious items weren’t considered traits of fostering positive karma. Phooey on them.

I made my mark nonetheless. I channeled my charm, my wit, my relentless pursuit of anything-chewable into self-improvement. I wondered if I tried hard enough, would that bring me closer to my dad. Yes, that’s right he’s not my “owner” – that’s terms for a microwave, not a companion. It was my dad I missed back in the mortal world. I knew I’d thunderously wag my tail off upon reuniting with him.

Oh, and about the salad. Yes, I still hate them. But I’m learning to morally tackle them, one leaf at a time. The afterlife is interesting, my friend. Amidst all the deer legs, Bullmastiff boardwalks, and non-vacuum bliss, the most charming part about the afterlife is its potentiality of endless evolution.

Because let’s face it, what Pet doesn’t love a good scratch behind the ear, a sniff up the tree, and a chance to become the best version of themselves for their favorite human? Watch out, Spencerville, Percy’s on the loose!

The End.