“Hey mom, guess what? My gang and I took our bikes to Red Beagle Beach and Pup-Tizers, dealing with troublemakers and savoring the bit of human-life. Jazz painted a masterpiece, we had a hoot at the Fetching Deli, and I indulged in ice-cream! Can you imagine? Anyway, in quiet moments, my paws pitter-patter on the grass under the old oak tree at Doggie Daycare, reminiscing and guarding Spencerville. Love your daring Biker Booboos.”

Listen to the story here

I’d always been the adventurous type, but let me tell you, nothing gets my stubby tail in a wag quite like the rumble of my motorcycle. What, you think because I’m a dog I can’t be part of a motorcycle gang? Well, allow me to enlighten you. Welcome to the tale of the “Pets of Anarchy.”

Picture me, Maxie, a Boston Terrier with moxie and courage for days, leading the way on my shiny motorcycle, ears erect, alert to every sound of the engine. It’s no small task keeping the rumbling peace in Spencerville, a town populated by the spirits of dearly departed pets. The irony isn’t lost on me, guarding the town of Spencerville when I’m deathly afraid of loud noises. But, what’s bravery if not facing your fears headfirst, right?

We gather at Red Beagle Beach, rolling our bikes up to the sun-kissed sands, their tires digging deep into the grainy surface, just like my paws. See, I hated the snow back in my former life, but the beach… now this is more my speed.

After the meet, Jazz and I usually hit Pup-Tizers. She’s a feline with an attitude, don’t let her sleek grey coat fool you. Our unlikely camaraderie might seem odd, but let me tell you, it’s never dull. And let’s not talk about bananas. If they even attempted to serve me the yellow thing while I’m digging into my roast beef or duck treats, it’s goodbye Pup-Tizers.

Every night, we convene at Furry Friends Art Gallery. It ain’t the usual humans’ stuffy affair. There are no pretentious curators or artists dripping in self-importance. Just the watercolor paw print art Jazz insists on creating and truth be told, it ain’t half bad.

Who could forget The Fetching Deli deli next? It’s the sheer delight of their ice-cream – not for the lactose-intolerant. I might be tough, but who said tough guys can’t indulge in a little creamy pleasure?

Every day is an adventure, a tug-of-war between the peace-loving pets and the occasional troublemakers, the desert heat of Lower Dalmatian Desert and the perfected landscapes of Lower Golden Gate Gardens, relishing the taste of a human-like existence until we’re united with our humans.

But at the end, you know what I enjoy the most? As the sundrenched day bleeds into the night, I find a quiet corner in Doggie Daycare, beneath the old oak tree. I lay my sleepy head on the grass, reminiscing about the long walks, fur flying in the wind, and the comfortable quiet that comes with knowing I’ve done my best to protect Spencerville.

After all, I’m Maxie, darling of all, but fiercely independent. For me, it’s not just about the rides and the rumbles. It’s about giving these treasured pets a place to live, love, play, and wait patiently for that joyful reunion, all the while staying true to the motto: Anarchy, but most importantly, Loyalty. And that’s the heart of it, isn’t it? Running a motorcycle club as rad as the Pets of Anarchy. Now that’s a tail well wagged.

The End.