Hey Mom, it’s Pootsy here! Been bouncing around time with my buddy – stumbled upon Tiny Mice Wars, almost brought Schmoodle back to life, then froze my paws off in 1942’s Antarctica! On the bright side, I got to meet up with Dixie, Lilly, Gilligan and the rest, thanks to this madness! Beats bath and walk routine. Love, Poot.

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There we were, me and Poot, paws on deck on the rooftop of Chihuahua Castle. Spencerville, unlike anything you’d see on Earth. Time squirmed and twisted as it pleased in this realm. Nobody’s longing for reuniting got the best of them here, in this peculiar world.

From up here we’d seen the Great War of the Tiny Mice played out far south near the Fawn Pug Palace, and once, damn near witnessed the resurrection of the Great Giant Schmoodle from the almost lifeless limbs of the Woof and Whisker Wellness Center, after an unsavory run-in at Bow Wow Bistro.

Poot. The pug with a heart of gold and a coat to match the midnight sky, was my designated time-travel partner. His eyes ablaze with wisdom and curiosity – a beacon of intellect in this wild canine cosmos.

“Alright Poot, what’s the POA?” I shouted over the throbbing rhythm of the time-twister. I always asked, Poot always knew. A stuffed monkey clutched tightly in his jaws, the odd talisman that set our course through the vortex of time. His preferred cost of admission to the time-twister. It beat throwing up half-digested kibble.

His tail twitched in a certain way, a clear signal. Strange, Antarctica, 1942 it is then.

But Spencerville never made things easy. Dogs ain’t supposed to drift through time, you see. Something about the grain of the universe and its elemental rules. Timidity surfaced within Poot’s sturdy body, a faint tremor ran through his frame. He wasn’t a fan of the noise and ruckus caused by the time-twister.

“But, dogs, we’re rule breakers,” I barked at him, “doing what nature ain’t seen fit to do, that’s the jazz of it.” Reconvening with his siblings, Dixie, Lilly, Gilligan et al., was one of those unintended yet welcome side effects of these unearthly escapades.

As the time-twister whirled, and the world outside distorted to our whims, we found ourselves crashing into snow-encrusted ground. The icy chill bit hard, and Poot’s teeth chattered. It was time to find a heater, perhaps a warm meaty meal at Bow Wow Burgers.

As the journey’s discomfort seeped into Poot, I looked back warmly at our escapades. From the tranquility of that familiar backyard to the chaos of the dog park, Poot and I had braved it all. “You see, Poot,” I said, a lingering pause before my next words, “That’s the brilliance of it. Us, against the rules of time. Makes the regular bath and walks feel like a walkover, yeah?”

And so, Poot – the midnight pug of myth and legend – and I ventured into the icy expanse, time-traveling misfits ready to seize another day in the parallel existence of Spencerville.

The End.