“Hey Dad, strutted my fur, danced a jig, and even tried the new zesty chicken at Furrific Fried Chicken. Fun? Yes. Zesty? More like a citric bomb in my mouth, set off a chaos! Max switched our meals, but the juicy steak at home made up for it. Spencerville was certainly entertained today! Cheers, Boomer.”

Listen to the story here

“A Day In The Labra-life of Boomer in Spencerville”

Diving headfirst into my tale, combined with a failed attempted at an aerodynamic tail tuck, I must admit, it was quite the comedy of errors.

Picture this: A typical sunny Sunday in Spencerville, where a dog doesn’t just fetch a ball, he fetches the local sassy Siamese’s attention at Bark ‘n’ Roll with a fancy dance move. I was prepping myself for a day of adventure, or mishap, both interchangeable in my case, and more often than not, followed by a meaty meal at The Fetching Deli.

Starting the day with my usual morning strut in my carefully groomed black coat shimmering under the Spencerville sun was really the confidence boost for the day’s antics ahead. As a Labrador with a confident streak, I daresay, I’ve been known to turn some heads. Nevertheless, I’m a staunch believer in equal rights for all breeds. Like, why have legs if you can’t strut, right?

Now, Daisy, the German Shepherd and Spencerville heart breaker, and Max, the Beagle, known for his fragrance game that “fetches” everyone’s attention, are my two best pals. Together, we are the legion of Zoom, always ready to bring laughter and occasional chaos to the normally tranquil life in this town.

Our rendezvous for the day was set for Furrific Fried Chicken. What could go wrong? Well, remember when I mentioned my particular distaste for the bad boys of fruit-dom, the citrus clan? Good, let’s stack up some serious laughs.

Walking into Furrific Fried Chicken, we found a new management sign. My tail went stiff. Change is good, they say, until it hands you a lemon, quite literally in my case. In an attempt to introduce a healthy twist to Spencerville’s doggy diet, citrus had been stealthily added to their meals. And as luck would have it, I was the first to try the zesty, chicken-of-the-day platter. My grin quickly plastered across Max’s face, who’d managed to switch our dishes without me noticing. Well, let’s just say that my noteworthy aversion provided everyone in the place with quite the early matinee.

My dramatic response set a chain reaction off. Dogs diving under tables, plates being tipped over, a symphony of dog yelps with an ovation of human laughter. Everyone had a story for when they go home that night, while I stood, mortified and citrified, in the spotlight.

Heading back to meet Joe, my fisherman dad, I felt a twinge of embarrassment. But then the juicy hamburger steak awaited at home, not to mention his affectionate chuckle and comforting pat that eased my citrus-y trauma. Being the comedy act of the town, it was just another day in the Labra-life for me in Spencerville. As I finished off my steak, the sun setting over Spencerville turned the sky into hues that closely resembled my golden-brown eyes. A perfect end to a perfectly imperfect day.

Oh, what a day, what a life. Boomer in Spencerville, signing off. Bow-wow for now!

The End.