Hey Mom, got wrongfully sent to the shelter, suspected cat thief. No joke! Russell and Millie pulled a “pawsome” daring escape. Have cheese, safely chilling at SR Beagle Beach. Who knew freedom tastes better than pizza? Home sweet home 😉 – Tanner 🐾

Listen to the story here

As a canine of Spencerville, I have certain responsibilities. Clean up the trash, I thought. Keep the noise down, I sniffed. Daring escapes from animal shelters, if necessary, I vowed.

I had followed every regulation to the letter, the marrow of the bone, so to speak. But, life has a way of throwing you a curve ball, or in my case, a rogue tennis ball.

Woke up in a cold cell, nothing but concrete under my paws. Been lifted to the dreaded animal shelter, wrongfully, I might add, like a prized chew bone vis-à-vis cat theft. Outrageous! I imagined a town meeting where Spencer, the mayor, would be gesticulating vehemently, “On Tanner’s tail, there’s a twist I haven’t seen before.”

I refused to stay put. But where were my co-conspirators? As if on cue, I heard a familiar sniff outside, “That you, Tanner?” It was the voice of Fat Russell.

“What are you doing here?” I barked in response.

“Stakin’ out the place, ol’ boy. We’re breaking you out,” he gruffed between pants.

My ears pricked up, mind racing faster than a greyhound out for his evening trot. As I went through the great escape plan, Spotted Red Beagle Beach was the rendezvous spot and the cheese-craving fool in me had one pit stop before the getaway, the Chow Down Chow Chow.

“What about Millie?” I wondered aloud, preferring a cheeky King Charles Cavalier on my side for this adventure.

“On recon,” Russell replied, his sentences were always as short as his breath.

Our peculiar plot unfolded; it was dubiously straightforward. With distractions varying from squeaky toys to bacon fragrances from Fetching Feline Pet Emporium, it was a spin worthy of the Snooty Snout Boutique latest collection!

The sniffs, barks, and clinks of my escape rang loud, bouncing off the Cream Maltese Meadow and echoing all through the Greyhound Grove. Breaking out under the amber light was no holiday, but a wag of my curly tail told its own tale.

Safe and sound at the Spotted Red Beagle Beach, I wolfed down my cheese under the star-spangled Spencerville sky. Freedom tasted better than any Pupperoni pizza ever could. Besides, a legend about a wrongful accusation and a daring break feels so much better when you’re not looking at it from behind bars.

That’s Spencerville for you. To my fellow Spencervillers, I raise a tail in respect – have no fear, Tanner’s here. And, I say it with a wry bark, remember the tale of this adventurous Rat Pug Terrier, for even under the town’s murky lights, remember– there’s no place like home.

The End.