“Yo, cut an epic figure at Taco Tuesday with Lulu, aced a backflip for PB, my own doggie LSD! Slurped popsicles, showed young pups who’s boss in Westie Woods, and went otter mode in Dove’s Pond! Yes mate, I took the plunge for the love of my ball! Citrus…still my kryptonite though. Spencerville rocks, life’s a joyride, sans skyscrapers and sour oranges. Take note, no regrets here. 😉 – Donkey”

Listen to the story here

One sweltering afternoon, I made my way to Pup ‘n’ Go Taco Joint – a stop I had to make every now and then to catch the Taco Tuesday show, where the mighty Tank, every dog’s revered old-timer, and his steadfast comrade Lulu held court.

Yeah, they flaunt the age wrinkles and mellow eyes, but make no mistake, those old hounds could still nail a backflip for a scoop of peanut butter – Tank’s personal smack addiction. A lick into the creamy goodness would transform his grumpy gaze to one of unadulterated joy – ecstasy hitting him faster than a frisbee spun into the air. Must admit, peanut butter was Tank’s LSD, each slurp pushing his sense of worldly pleasure to new highs. And on those rare, warm evenings when the sun took its sweet time to set, I’d join Tank and his pals at Pupsicle Palace for a simple treat – Tank relishing his popsicle while I sipped on a chardonnay, it was a feeling of pure, unspoken camaraderie.

Take Tank to Westie Woods and you’d be left spellbound, for the old chap was born to run. The sight of his brindle coat marbling through the dense foliage, along a sundrenched patchwork of grass and soil – it was nothing sort of poetry in motion. Fragments of his youthful vigor still echoed in those stretches, enough to put every rookie lab or newbie shepherd to shame.

But come high tide, the lure of water was way too intoxicating, too alluring for Tank to ignore. Remember that one time, Tank rolled a ball into the Dove’s Pond? Goddamn it, you should’ve seen him. Suddenly, it was no Old English Bulldog, no sir! Tank was part Otter, part Olympian, diving in with an ease only a seasoned swimmer knows! His full-throttle amphibian adventure stopped only when he finally rescued his beloved ball, soaking wet and yet, grinning like a madcap puppy.

Despite all of Tank’s remarkable nuances, that which amused me the most was his strange aversion towards citrus. Throw him one juicy orange, and the boy would react as though he’d been shot in the paw. His frantic scrambling, the twisted wrinkles of his face – Tank made his distaste for those tangy orbs crystal clear.

In the cacophony of our lives filled with skyscrapers, deadlines, and Chinese takeaways, Spencerville was a gateway to sheer simplicity – a world freed from the urban rut. Tank’s world. And the harmonious tales of Tank and his mischief-maker Lulu, you see, wasn’t just some fairytale. They were narrations of raw love, candid joy, and are testimonies to the fact that in a dog’s world, there’s no room for apprehensions or regrets. It’s a continuous ride of jiving and living, with a pint of beer and no sour oranges.

The End.