“Hey Ma, just a normal day in Spencerville. Held court with Sir Squeaky, had a debate about pretzels vs. friendships, and lead a park expedition. Found a boot (maybe a sock monster leftover?). All in a day’s work. Love, your valiant brindle boy, Cassius.”

Listen to the story here

Gather round, ye, for another Spencerville tale; you might remember from times afore told, our familiar friend Cassius Cash, the boxer lad with brindle and white stipples smearing across his coat, an image as splendid as July sunrise over Bullmastiff Boardwalk.

In our fair town, we lay no claim to paupers or princes. Still, some folks stood elevated, like Cassius, not by birth’s triviality, but by virtue of their souls. His, a sort of goodness that belies description, glowing brighter than Southern Golden Retriever River under the noonday sun.

Loyal as a summer’s day is long, he held himself with a manner like an old world aristocrat, couched in his plush throne with his courtier, Sir Squeaky the bright yellow duck, clenched firmly in his royal jaws. Their chats, I tell you, were things of pure poetry, Cassius delivering monologues on profound topics like unwavering friendships compared to the fleeting allure of salty pretzels. All the while, Sir Squeaky would dutifully respond with passionate squeaks, though you could tell it was silently disapproving of Cassius’s scathing analysis on the monotone nature of carrots.

There, right next to the sparkling Southern Golden Retriever River, our valiant boxer would often lead his comrades on expeditions. Benny, ever so brave, leading the rear as cautious Mindy would cast suspicious eyes on every leaf and stone. Guided by Cassius’ booming baritone echoing between the trees, they were tales of quests for sock-eating monsters and the legendary chow thief that haunted Lower Golden Gate Gardens.

Last I had the occasion to pass the canine-corner of town, I saw our Cassius, returned victorious from yet another exploration at the park. Clad in battle scars of mud and burrs, he proudly held a discarded boot as priceless as a diamond ring. Hearts alight at the sight of this parade, the folks cheered for their beloved hero, their friend.

Laughter rings out from Bark Burgers and Pup ‘n’ Go Taco Joint, owners raising a toast, a testament to good times. Glasses clinking with jovial echoes that drape Spencerville like an knitted blanket, comforting, warm. We watch as our Cassius Cash, that good ol’ lad, becomes more than just a dog but a chapter etched onto our hearts; for every tale embarks on a journey – an immaculate bildungsroman, spun through the simple turmoil of life in Spencerville.

Here, tales of bravery, of wisdom, were told in whispers, each tale carving an imprint on the souls who listened, a reminder, unabashed and unadulterated of the life and the love which permeated the air in Spencerville.

The End.