“Hey mom, it’s the Good Guy. Just chillin’ in Spencerville, this awesome pet retirement town. Best part? Chow Down Chow Chow’s scrumptious meals. But talk about drama, the mayor’s cat missing! So now Harold and I are like doggy detectives in a feline whodunit, all while dodging baths and vet talk (gives me the shivers!). All the best from us! Wolf-out, The Good Guy.”

Listen to the story here

Good day! Let me tell you about my friend Harold. Harold, the stoic yet affectionate Brown Wolf Mix that has the run of this town. Spencerville is a kind of retirement town for pets, a place where we live human-like existences and have as much fun as possible, waiting to be reunited with our owners someday.

Now, you might think that Harold, being a 100lb wolf-dog with ears as imposing as his personality, would be a prime candidate for mayor of such a town. But Harold was never one for politics. He left running the town to Mayor Babe and his deputy Smiley, preferring to spend his time splashing in Upper Black Bulldog Bay, or basking under the shimmering sun at Western Husky Hill.

Harold is one of those dogs who speaks volumes with his silence. His loyalty is a fortress, his affection palpable, and his protection never wavering. His stoic face hides a curious mind and a heart brimming with affection. It’s this complexity that draws others in. At Chow Down Chow Chow, the most famous restaurant in town, Harold is a regular. The chefs always save the best morsels from the kitchen for him. He enjoys the human-like dishes there. I can’t understand it, but then again, to each his own.

However, being introverted as Harold is, he despises noisy environments. He would rather lounge at The Snooty Snout Boutique, shopping for chew bones, than joining the crowd at the raucous Bark ‘n’ Roll. And god forbid someone mentions the word ‘vet’. It stirs up something dark in Harold. I’ve seen his eyes; they flicker with something akin to fear.

Now, for Harold, there is one entity that terrifies him more than anything – cats. You mention Sylvester or Dimples, and his face scrunches like he’s swallowed something he shouldn’t have. It’s one of those strange, unspoken laws in Spencerville – dogs and cats keep to their own side. An unspoken rule that often stirs problems; what if someone crosses the line?

Late one evening, as we were lounging in his loved backyard, a strange call echoed through our town, and it was none other than our very own feline friends. The cat Sergeant was missing, and the balance of power quivered. This was the beginning of one of the most thrilling chapters in our lives.

And so, Spencerville, the serene retirement town for pets, became the ground for political intrigue and canine espionage, with Harold and I in the eye of the storm. You know, all the while hoping we can still dodge those dreaded baths and make it for dinner at Fur Tacos. Because we may feel like James Bond, but a dog needs to eat, right?

The End.