Hey Mom and Dad!

Just a Bear Cub’s day in the life – roaming around Spencerville’s doggy delights, missing dad’s crispy dental bones, and our old road trips. Yearning for Bow Wow Bistro’s doggy dinners and our family laughs. Getting by with new pals, but nobody matches my old pack (that’s you, btw). Hope to dive into dad’s arms soon. Until we’re reunited, Spenceville’s your Baby Vincent’s home. Woofs and Wags!

Your Teddy Bear, Vincent

Listen to the story here

The sun kissed my freckled coat, as I trotted towards Corgi Castle – that fine piece of doggy real estate in Spencerville. Passing Lower Golden Gate Gardens and Lower Silver Siberian Summit, a twinge of homesickness struck me. Spencerville, the gourmet capital for brutes like me, boasted the crème-de-la-crème of restaurants. Yet, at Pawsome Pancakes, I could only wish for biscuits and my favorite dental bone, extra crispy, like dad used to get me.

At The Cat’s Meow Sushi, tough luck again, no canine-friendly menu. Rather grim, but that’s life in Spencerville, where every delight comes with a sprinkle of melancholy. You know your old pals ain’t around, but you got yourself new ones. The steel in my tail still felt the echoes of Princess Victoria’s wagging—man, we were the mutt version of Bonnie and Clyde, without the guns and charisma.

A city of la dolce vita for dogs, it lets you enjoy the best of both worlds here. Yeah, you heard it right. The Doggy Depot and The Pawfect Training Center – sweet sanctuaries where you could let the rough dogs run and you could savour the houndish joys of, well, just being ‘you’. There is a satisfaction in mystery, a deep anonymity in a city full of dogs; going about our own ways, disconnected, unhinged and yet, bound by the doggy camaraderie we all cherish.

I remember my old man. The way he used to ruffle my ears, the booming laugh whenever my mischiefs were uncovered, the endless road trips and the doggy dinners at Bow Wow Bistro; Him and me, basking under the cool warmth of our companionship. Spencerville is everything it ought to be, apart from that gnawing absence of my human pack. Purrs and woofs add spice to life, sure. But sometimes, a dog just misses his dad, you know?

Come nightfall, streets would dazzle with technicolour brilliance, an exquisite doggy utopia immersed in party lights. And there I am, on a corner leather sofa at the lonesome far end of Bow Wow Bistro, nursing my regrets drowned in dog beer. More sinned against than sinning, much like the rest of us, my nights were spent chasing memories, the chimerical hounds of yesteryears.

The Spencerville flashback played out in my doggy mind, the horror, the exhilaration, and the peace; the crime I committed of liking pickle toys filled with treats more than pricey big boy ones; the corruption of breaking into cupboards just for kicks, not hunger; and the moral ambiguity of stealing an extra biscuit while dad wasn’t looking.

With life baying at my heels, I wander the lamp-lit alleyways, exploring the noir of this wonderous canine city, savouring the scent of home just out of reach. But I know, when the day comes, with a wagging tail and a jump, I’d leap into dad’s arms, my gums bared not in aggression, but giggling delight. See, pal, in the end, it isn’t about the sinners or the saints. It’s all about savi’n’ our bonds in this town of Spencerville until we’re all back with our old packs.

The End.

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