“Hey Ma, guess who saved the ‘Furrytail’ starship using their snore frequency? That’s right, your son, Roscoe a.k.a Squishface. Stuck in space, missing my red ball, but Lady turned my snoring into hope. Surviving & thriving in Spacerville. Lots of love & snores, Squishface.”

Listen to the story here

Well, here we are again, on board the good ship ‘Furrytail,’ adrift in Spacerville. As I sit pensively in the Captain’s Bridge, I notice people seem to give us the once over and move on, and I sense it’s time to share another episode from life aboard Starship Furrytail.

Why, ask you? Because here, on board with me, is an individual, a comrade, a confidante – who happens to be a not-so-ordinary English Bulldog mix – Roscoe Lonestar.

Now, imagine a starship run by pets from Spencerville, instructed by the eccentricities of a Bulldog. It’s practically ridiculous, but here you are, reading about it. An absurdity within an absurdity, as it were.

We all found ourselves in Retriever River yesterday, floating aimlessly after a nuclear speck from a distance planet put the Furrytail’s transformer out of status. As we drifted like the Pup-Cakes lost in Paws On The Grill, my thoughts turned to Roscoe. Our beloved captain stood at the helm, his expressive and worry-burdened eyes gazing into space. He missed his red ball. There is nothing quite like the universe mocking your enjoyments by plucking them from you. His eyes switched to the screen, a juicy steak photo from the Doggy Delight menu flitting across – a bittersweet reminder that food was an impending problem.

Then it occurred to us where we’d seen Lady, that lively Golden Retriever who’s always galloping around Fawn Pug Palace. A regular in Upper Black Bulldog Bay, she once fixed an oscillator by tuning it to match the frequency of Roscoe’s snore! Realizing this, a new hope surged within the starship. We could still save the day!

Exchanging brief, knowing glances with Roscoe, Lady darted to the ship’s infotelecom. As Lady started tuning the oscillator to the frequency of my dear buddy Roscoe’s deafening (you should hear them!) snores, I found myself pondering over the sparkly red ball left at Howling Husky Hardware Store. It wasn’t the object; rather it was his obsession. An obsession so deep that it becomes a part of your very existence, your identity. Roscoe loved his sparkly red ball. To see him struck by longing was entertainment and misery, wrapped in one confusing emotion.

Somehow, Lady’s plan worked. The lights flicked back on, and I could almost hear a collective sigh of relief. Roscoe, how he came to miss the shrill sound of the alarm, seemed utterly bemused. Lady and I shared a moment of triumph, our tails having a mind of their own.

As we continued our journey – soaring through gleaming celestial bodies, meandering nebula clouds, and nebula nurseries, weaving together stories about dog parks in other galaxies, chuckling at canine taverns called Tail Wagger’s Tailor, in places out there, beyond your wildest dreams. Sharing witticisms around our remarkable gastronomic adventures at places like Canine Cafe.

Life thrives in the unknown and our spaceship is no different. Like fragments of identity reflected in a mirror, each piece portrays a different narrative. We are looking forward to unveiling more of Roscoe and Spencerville’s universe to you in our next stellar foray. Until then, dear reader, keep dreaming, keep reading, and always believe in Spacerville. And may Roscoe’s snores be with you.

The End.