“Hey Mama🐾 Today in doggy heaven aka Spencerville, I had chicken (with vitamins🐔💊 – ha! Checkmate, health nut). Met Jax by the pond (he never changes🤭) and had some blissful spa⛲️ time. Sure, there’s no wet fur, but I miss your hugs. Life’s pawsome here, but can’t wait for you to join (no hurry though!). Spencerville, 1. Heartaches, 0. TTYL, love Jazzy bug🐶❤️🌈”

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It was just another day of euphoria in Spencerville—where us dearly departed pets try not to miss our humans too much, and contemplate how much fun we’re having over here. Yeah, I know the tumors and stuff really sucked, but if it means I get to chase squirrels in Greyhound Grove during the day and dine at Furrific Fried Chicken during the evening, I’m not complaining.

I came upon a food parcel on my doormat one day – a neat little package wrapped in butchers’ paper; the sort you’d see in your run-of-the-mill Spencervillian shop like The Snooty Snout Boutique. The aroma of fried chicken was unmistakable. That unmistakable, deliciously repugnant smell, akin to my long lost love; my mom’s spaghetti. Within it was a delicately battered piece of chicken. “Chicken! My favorite!” I thought, salivating profusely which kind of messed up my tan coat.

After a mouthful of the chicken, my tastebuds revolted. What’d you know? There’s a pill hidden in it. “Rat poison!” my paranoid mind screamed before my rational side had a moment to think, “Maybe not.” It was a mere supplement. I guess even in an afterlife utopia, health must be prioritized. I suppose the folks at Tail Waggers or The Howling Husky Hardware Store mean well.

Later on, during my customary walk by Poodle Pond, I spotted my best friend, that bushy-tailed, nonsensical, four-legged misfit, Jax. He panted, grinning like a doofus. “You taste chicken today?” he asked. If he were any more naïve, he’d actually be charming. “I told you, Jax. Be suspicious when spaghetti smells like chicken,” I retorted, wondering how someone could be so unaware. “I don’t think about these things,” he imparted. “I got a stick, a pond, and some sunshine. Could the world be any better?”

“No rain today. That’s excellent,” I murmured to myself. My fluffy coat doesn’t exactly make me a fan of the wet weather. We strolled, chasing shadows and dreams beneath the unusually quiet skies of Westie Woods, realizing how missed rains were a soothing reminder of the serenity back home.

At Spa for Paws later that day, I reclined, now dry after my earlier encounter. Ahh! The peaceful silence. No bustling dog parks, no cacophony of human existence. Pure bliss. “At least you’re in a real relaxation central, a tranquil village” Jax remarked. Just then, he spotted his favorite toy, his day made. I just sighed.

As dusk settled over the perfect slice of heaven called Spencerville, I thought about my perfectly imperfect life. I realized I had everything—friendship, food, comfort—all except my humans. Oh, how I missed them! Their hugs, the comfort of their laps. A knowing glance swept over me. But hey, they will join me, someday…now that’s the real joy of Spencerville.

The heartaches, I realized, were just petty compared to the pleasure that waits. Here, in Spencerville, we surprise ourselves with what we accept. A pill wrapped in chicken? Oh, drat! As long as it doesn’t taste like rat poison!

The End.

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