- Dog Tales
- September 9, 2023
Curley PawWord Story
Hey fam, just another whimsical day in ghost-dog paradise—Spencerville! Spirit dawn, squishy walk to Southern Goldie River, sniffed the Fetching Deli. Saw my life on canvas, no terror tomatoes, laugh-attacks with Puddlez, noshed at Bark and Bites, strolled down memory lane, and whispered stories to the stars by Poodle Pond. Miss you, but know we’ll be together again. Licks and tail wags, Curley 🐾👻
Just another regular, spirit-morning here in Spencerville. The Shih Tzu Stadium was already abuzz with activity. Being a ghost, I’ve come to relish these quiet, ethereal dawns. I ambled towards the Southern Golden Retriever River, joy simmering through my spectral fur as my paws squished against the dew-covered grass.
Poodle Pond shimmered beneath the sun, a mirror to the world above. The Fetching Deli was preparing for the morning rush, wafts of chicken and grilled steak infused in the oncoming breeze. I had fallen in love with the ethereal Spencerville, invisible to living eyes, but more real than anything physical beyond.
Drifting towards The Furry Friends Art Gallery, I glimpsed a collection of my adventures displayed pensively across the walls. The thrill of sprinting through a dense forest, the wind parting a path around my rush. The silent awe as I gazed upon the stars through the open sunroof of a moving car. The victorious leaps into the air, owning every bit of the racquetball game.
Pleasingly, no tomatoes to be found in any spectral canvas, their red sheen didn’t exist in my Spencerville, it was banned out of respect for my distaste – terrifying, these tomatoes.
As the gentle tickle of nostalgia pricked, my sibling, Puddlez, came bounding into the gallery with several of my unnamed friends. Laughter echoed through the hallways, childhood pranks enacted with gleeful abandon. A symphony of joys and wonderment played out in merry chaos.
An exciting break at Bark and Bites, with steak sandwiches, chicken-salad, apple-juice, and spirits were soaring high. Afterward, we sauntered down to Best in Show Photography. Residences of our living past were displayed with a fondness only death grants.
The day drew to an end under the stars by Poodle Pond, whispering tales of earthy attachments to solace the darkness. Always I was the last to leave, clinging onto the resonating echoes of my friends. Strangely, it was in these lonely moments, the echo of the living world hummed most comforting.
Spencerville, a realm meant for joyous afterlife where we miss our human companions, yet knowing we’d be reunited one day allows us contentment. Day after sparkling day, I, Curley, relished the joy of being a spectral Keeshond in this ever-bustling, nearly perfect, ethereal town of Spencerville.
The End.
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