“Morning Mom & Dad! Spent the day winning hearts in town, caused a minor pasta incident (sorry!), held court at Chow Down, & remembered Victoria during our tales. Tough day, but love keeps me going. Sweet dreams from your Bear Cub. xo”

Listen to the story here

In the hushed pre-dawn hours, Spencerville was already up and running. The smell of fresh scones wafting from The Bark Shak, hang in the crisp morning air. Through the serene calm of the town, I sauntered over to the familiar weight of Vincent, perched on North Chihuahua Castle’s vantage point. Our looming presence, a spectacle against the dawning skies, was a silent promise of extraordinary tales about to unfold.

“Morning, Vincent,” I began, my hand ruffling the speckled, black and white fur. His eyes twinkled in response – a mutual understanding, a tacit conversation. A conversation only possible in the heart of Spencerville.

Vincent, despite his remarkable size and strength, moved with a grace that was both captivating and charming. Our town’s luminary. Our Newfoundland. As we stalked the cobblestone streets from castle to Chow Down Chow Chow, I watched as heads turned in admiration. Windows brightened as pots of uncooked pasta and bags of flour were hastily withdrawn – for who could forget Vincent’s knack for creating a flour-deluge or pasta-sprinkle?

“Same order, Vincent?” I asked, pushing open the door to the restaurant. A single, authoritative bark answered me, a few interested glances cast our way from less familiar faces. It was the daily ritual – fetch Vincent his dental bone supper.

Unless you’ve been to The Pawfect Training Center or watched Vincent nonchalantly out-smart the most seasoned trainers whilst stubbornly leaving a trail of destruction in his wake, you couldn’t fathom Spencerville’s irony – our massive, independent and stubborn Newfoundland was as gentle as a desert breeze, as kindly as a June afternoon.

His great heart forever held a void – the memory of Princess Victoria, whose absence in our walks and biscuit-sharing getaways tinged his playful demeanor with a hint of sorrow. Her memory kept alive through the never-ending stories we shared, stories that floated around us as delicately as the aroma of fresh biscuits from the Bark Shak.

The cycle of the day spun on; the lights dimmed, and the night spread its velvet cover over Spencerville. Vincent and I, after one last stop at the Wagging Tail Bookstore, found ourselves at his favorite spot – his private backyard. As he settled down, the moonlight cast long, fading shadows, bringing with it a cool breeze from Poodle Pond. As Vincent’s heavy eyelids closed, his tail wagging slowly in satisfaction, I knew a new chapter was ending and the next was just about to begin in the legendary town of Spencerville.

One sleep, one new day removed from reuniting with his sister and his family. A gentle nod to the stories of the past, the memory of a Saint Bernard named Victoria, and to the hope of the future awaits.

The End.