‘Hey fam, adventure filled day in Spencerville. Wandered into Westie Woods, fun interrupted by that dread vacuum cleaner, ran to Black Bulldog Bay. Not safe there too, so escaped to Poodle Pond. Met furry comrades, swapped loud monster stories over Pupperoni Pizza. Life came a full circle with tranquil post-vacuum days filled with park frolics, squirrel chases and beef stew love. As I sauntered under a silver-lit sky, missed you all. Keep rocking your worlds. Remember, not a fan of vacuums, just bulldog-ing around 😆. – Love, Meaty.’

Listen to the story here

Once upon a charming morning in Spencerville, as the fresh breeze welcomed the dawn, I, Meatball, took a fruitful stroll to Eastern White Westie Woods. Perfectly groomed pups pranced around, their excitable barks echoing through the verdant foliage. My tail quivered with joy at a day full of potential adventures. Ghastly though, my beef stew breakfast was interrupted by a distant humming sound, a menace of travesty to my tranquil mornings. The monstrous vacuum cleaner, my nemesis I thought had missed Spencerville, was at large.

Scuttling hastily to my safety, the Upper Black Bulldog Bay, I realized even in an almost perfect land I could find trouble. You would think the horror of my retreat would dwindle at the border of the woods, wouldn’t you? But alas, the wily whirr of the vacuum permeated the calm air of my sanctuary. I must proclaim though while I was distrupted the sight of poodles sprightly bathing, their coiffured fur gleaming in the sun, dispersed my dread momentarily.

The heart of every bulldog seeks solace, and mine found it in the idyllic premises of the Poodle Pond. Here, nestled in the serenity, the mystery of the monstrous machine would unravel. My trusty orange frisbee, my partner in all adventures, housed in the sanctum of The Barking Boutique, a bastion against my beelzebub, the vacuum cleaner.

Fellow comrades, a witty tabby cat, and a spry golden retriever, narrated tales of their encounters of noisy adversaries. Oh, what comfort in shared misery! As the conspiracy theories of the dreaded vacuums piled on, soothing came in the form of a delightful whiff wafting from Bone Appetit. Pupperoni Pizza! A meal I only partook on joyous occasions, but distress warrants indulgence, doesn’t it?

Post the seismic event of the menacing vacuum, life in Spencerville returned to its tranquil rhythm. My days playing out to the script of frolicking in the park, chasing squirrels, collective banter at The Pooch Playhouse, with a fondness for my home-grown beef stew, keeping me company.

As days faded into dusk, Spencerville bloomed under the crescent moon’s light. I found myself sauntering into the silver-lit evening reminiscing about my siblings. The memories of our playful youth festooned my heart, warming it with a lull of familiarity. I couldn’t help but hope they resided in an equally loving corner of the world.

Thus carries on my whimsical, royal reign. I am Meatball, a sturdy English bulldog, the crowned pet of Spencerville. While joy and mischief encapsulate my days, like a story unwinding, I too have my uncompromising ways, and dread of, let’s keep it amongst us, the wretched vacuum cleaner. For I am but a dog, living his royal life, in as human a way as one could.

The End.