“Hey Dad! Today was another Super Gabby Tuesday in Spencerville! Saved kittens, put out fires, and outplayed Fang the ferocious. Usual stuff. Indulged in steak at Paws On the Grill and sunbathed at North Chihuahua Castle. Izzy and I exchanged adventure tales and missed you a ton. The greyhound’s story again hints someday we’ll reunite. Until then, this superhero dog’s got dream-filled bones and a wagging tail full of hope. Woof to you soon! – Beast”

Listen to the story here.

“Ah, Spencerville, whose silent streets are warmed by the constant pitter-patter of paws,” I often find myself saying, even though I am the only one who can listen. Which is fine with me.

Except for Tuesday afternoons. Tuesdays are when we, the citizens of Spencerville, gather around the big screen in Cream Maltese Meadow. As we munch on our favorite treats from Dog-gone Good BBQ, we watch dreams become reality in the form of Super Gabby. Aka – Me.

Mind you, it’s no secret that I am not the same Gabby we know and adore. We watched in amazement as my cream-white fur flickered under the golden sun and transformed into a dazzling silver during those meadow screenings. In my super form, I had the strength of a hundred bulldogs, the agility of a pack of excited Chihuahua’s playing tag, and the dash of a Labrador chasing a Frisbee, all wrapped up in a compact little French Bulldog named Gabby.

Every Tuesday, like clockwork, an owl delivers a tape to Amy. Yeah, Amy of the golden fur and sparkling eyes, my best friend and trusted sidekick. The tape replays the heroic acts Super Gabby performed in the past week – saving kittens stuck in trees (yes, dare I admit, even cats need my help sometimes), putting out house fires, halting Fang the ferocious from harassing smaller pups. All in a day’s work for Super Gabby.

Life in Spencerville was never dull. I loved the Paws On the Grill where I would indulge my fondness for steak and between the flurry of my heroic deeds; I find solace in a sunny spot in North Chihuahua Castle. Basking in the rays, I felt like the queen of my sun-drenched kingdom. A queen that doesn’t do well with vacuum noises and likes roast beef.

Despite the heroic conquests and timeless tales of valor, my favorite moments were the quieter ones. The ones where Izzy would curl up against my side, and we’d swap heroic tales of our past week, laughing and wrestling, feasting and dreaming. Dreaming of dad. We would listen with rapt attention when an old-timer Greyhound spoke solemnly of ‘the day,’ telling of a time when we would be back with our loved ones. The ones we left behind.

So, you see, Spencerville is not an ordinary place. It’s our refuge, a doggie haven where we wait patiently for our humans. Every bark, every wag of each tail carries the hope of reunion. And away from the screens and fanfare, beneath a gargantuan oak in Cream Maltese Meadow, even Super Gabby dares to dream. Of tugs-of-war, car rides, scritches behind the ear, and most importantly – dad.

The End.