“Hey, parents! Had a ruff day – Finja got captured, Smilla and I braved my nightmare – the Tan Dalmatian Desert & the Feral Feline Fortress to save her. But all’s fine now, we’re back and celebrating with a cucumber feast for Finja and pate for me. Spencerville is whole again. C u soon – Schnucki.”

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It’s a dreary one today in Spencerville. Swirling mist hovers above Corgi Castle. The mood is somber; the usually bustling promenade of Bullmastiff Boardwalk deserted. Our friend, an integral part of our trio, Finja, has been captured.

“Where’s Finja?” It’s a question we’d been wrestling with for hours. Finja, the spritely Great Dane, the most low- maintenance dog in the history of dogs, who ate cucumbers as if they were gourmet delights. Cucumbers! I wouldn’t touch them with a 10-foot leash.

Smilla, the eloquent Rottweiler and best navigator in town, had a plan. “Winston,” she said, “we can’t afford to waste time. We know how you hate the desert, but we’ve got to venture into the Tan Dalmatian Desert.”

I let out a groan that could wake every pup in Spencerville. A run through the desert was like a bone without meat, desolate and dry. Just as I was about to voice my objection, Smilla produced a map of Spencerville, her paw tracing a path to the capture site. A path through my least favorite terrain. But for Finja, I’d brave it.

We spent hours traversing the gritty, beige landscape of the Tan Dalmatian Desert. Me, with my striking brindle coat, occasionally showing signs of my stubborn streak – the desert was no walk in the park. But Smilla was always there, tugging at the ropes of my determination.

Crossing the desert, we reached the place where you’d least expect to find a culinary success, Dog-gone Good BBQ. There was a real sense of community tucked inside that tiny, bustling hub; a community that rallied to help us locate our friend. My resolve strengthened. It always does when it’s about family, even if one of them loved cucumbers.

Finally, the grueling desert gave way to the confounding labyrinth of the infamous Feral Feline Fortress, where locals claim, any dog who dares to enter returns…changed. The desert was a piece of cheese in comparison, but a bulldog’s got to do, what a bulldog’s got to do.

Smilla and I braved the labyrinth, rescued Finja and returned home to a hero’s welcome on Bullmastiff Boardwalk. Spencerville was again complete, and Finja was back where she belonged. She celebrated her rescue with a cucumber feast at The Bark Shak while I, with my biased palate, feasted on a bowl of pate and cheese.

Despite the looming desert and my less-than-favorable feelings towards cats and loud noises, I would brave any mission for my friends. Tough trek through the desert or confrontations at the Feral Feline Fortress, bring it on. This is Winston’s creed: Friendship always finds a way. Because in the near-perfect town of Spencerville, we believe in waiting for our loved ones, together.

The End.

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