Hey Mom, Spencerville survived the Great Shake, just like me! From sausages thefts to frisbee chomping, my tail’s still wagging in post-apocalyptic life. Shops are popping up again and I’m the unspoken mayor. Life’s ruff, but rebuilding’s better together, even without ham. LOL. Love, The Outsize Beagle 🐾

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Well, I’ll tell ya, everything changed when “The Great Shake” happened. Skyscrapers crumbled like cookie crumbs and the world as we knew it…well, it just ain’t there no more. But, Spencerville, it survived. It came outta the wreckage, just like Lambeau, that beloved outsized Beagle lookalike German Shepherd, did.

“Oh, Lambeau,” I chuckled, peeling a can open under the cool, dappled shade of what’s left of our oak tree. “Remember how you used to steal those zesty sausages from old Mrs. Henderson’s BBQ? Dog-gone Good BBQ ain’t got nothing on hers!” His wagging tail and lovable eyes reflected shared memories lit in the comforting embers of nostalgia.

Despite our grim scenario, life breathed again within Spencerville, with the Barking Boutique rumblings amidst the rubble and the Ruff-n-Ready turning out dishes that would put most pre-apocalypse chefs to shame. No ham though. We still couldn’t get Lambeau anywhere near it.

And then there’s his frisbee. Ah, traces of ordinary life in the Apocalypse! Between gutting abandoned cars for scrap and navigating survivors to safety, Lambeau still found time for that old chewed-up thing. Passers-by say he’s quite mad, but aren’t we all, surviving this?

At night, you’d find us huddled under the grand old oak, the crumbly silhouette of Chihuahua Castle looming in the background. The three brothers, Lambeau, Romulus, and Mukku, curled together, guarding us while the others slept. Those reassuring snores calmed the quiet nights.

“Spencerville’s our Eden,” Jimmy, the postman, once stated, “A spot of normal in this upturned world.” He’d rub Lambeau’s ears fondly, the two old friends basking in shared silence.

Shops reopened one by one. The Barking Boutique had a line that snaked past the paved roads of the Yellow Tan Dalmatian Desert, and the smell of freshly baked treats from Woofy Bakery filled our mornings as we slowly rebuilt our town, piece by piece.

The apocalypse took away a lot of things, but it didn’t take away Spencerville’s spirit or Lambeau’s love for sausages. And you bet that German Shepherd was still as sociable as ever. You should’ve seen him trotting around town, tail wagging, ears perked, the unspoken mayor of Spencerville, that one!

So there it was, our quaint little town, nestled between the remains of old and the promise of new. With our hands building up and our hearts grounded in, it was easier believing in a future. After all, we still had Lambeau. Amidst the chaos, here was his joy, his vitality, a reminder to press on. To rebuild. Together. No matter how many shakes might come our way.

The End.