Hey Mom, it’s your renegade pup, Tanner. Traded my dog dish for a motorcycle ride, keeping the town of Spencerville safe with my hound gang. Even got to indulge in some heavenly cheese at Pawsome Pancakes. Who knew being a Dog Terrier could be so thrilling? Tail wags, Tanner.

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I huffed onto the cracked leather seat of my miniature Harley, floppy ears flapping in the breeze like tattered battle flags. Old Lilly, ears perked high and eyes dancing with mischief, shot me a lopsided grin. “Ridin’s in our blood, ain’t it, Tan?”

Turning over the engine, the put-put-put echoed against the red desert surround, resonating with the thrumming of my heart. “Always has been, Lil,” I said, muzzle splitting in a wide grin. We’re Dog Terriers, two halves of a whole, the epitome of freedom on four legs.

We gathered at Lower Silver Siberian Summit, the designated rendezvous. Round, Fat Russell, squeezed onto his chopper, his lumbering largesse contrasted by petite Millie, nestling on her Vespa. Her eyes shimmered with a quiet courage, endearing her to us all. Together, we formed the hounds of Anarchy, a band of free-spirited dogs, the guardians of Spencerville.

The sun sank low and the evening came alive with the smell of grilling Cheese at the Pawsome Pancakes. As much as I loved the thrill of the ride, the idea of sinking my teeth into a warm slab of grilled cheese was a siren’s call. I detested Ear Cleaning or the sterile smell of Vet’s chamber over the comforting aroma of cheese any day. I know, it’s not a trait of a so-called protector but I had come to an understanding with my weaknesses.

As I trundled down the rugged roads of our beautiful desert town, I couldn’t help but reminiscence about my old man, Spencer. The respect he commanded at the ‘Bone Appetit’ to his firm paw on the Spencerville policies. No dog would dare sneak a bite of chocolate on his watch. That old dog knew the lay of the land and had sniffed more stories than I ever could. Some days I’d give my favorite stuffed toy for one more ride with him.

A bark brought me back to reality. I glanced back at Millie, and she pointed with her paw to a dust cloud approaching fast. My heart pounded and instinct took over as we prepared for whatever the road brought our way. We rode on, the moon our only beacon, protectors of Spencerville.

That’s the life of a Dog Terrier, friends. Respect, loyalty, protecting our turf, and a good slice of cheese at the end of a long day. And in Spencerville, we say, life couldn’t get better! A pack on the road, the wind in our fur. We were born to be wild, and we wouldn’t have it any other way. Here’s to another day in the saddle, another day as a Spencerville pet.

The End.

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