Hey, mom-dad, it’s your lovable bear cub, Vincent. Cruised through Spencerville today, shunned bling from the Barking Boutique, dined like a king at Chow Down Chow Chow, and even smuggled a tasty change to my menu. Ended the day with my loyal sidekick, Victoria, reflecting on a dog’s life. All’s poochy in paradise. After all, I’m just a hairy Buddha living his best doggy life! -Bear Cub.

Listen to the story here

Strapped into my canine persona like a sheep in a Stetson, I nosed around my familiar haunts. Call me Vincent. I’m a Newfoundland from a different time and dive like a scofflaw across my dog days in Spencerville – a utopian playground for the likes of me and my loyal confidante, Princess Victoria. Our exploits, you ask? Buckle in.

Today was a casual amble down the Shepherd Skyline. View? Better than a greased squeaky toy, not unlike the plush pickle I keep at paw’s reach for comfort. Along the sidewalk, the sun reflects off that Lower Silver Siberian Summit, and the Pug Palace pokes its turrets in the horizon. Mildly interesting. I don’t need a lot to chew on. Give me my pack and a whiff of the familiar in the breeze. Anything more is just barking without a reason.

The Barking Boutique? Waste of time. Never cared for the hats, too garishly blenching. The Tail Wagger’s Tailor? Got tempted once, but the thrill of vanity is as fleeting as the scent of a rabbit three days old. I would rather traipse around in the lush valleys of Spencerville, squirting on trees and rocks and whatever dared to stand in my way. My territory, you see.

Attack of hunger, like a coyote in heat, hit me. waddled down to Chow Down Chow Chow, ordered my usual – fish and biscuits. While masticating, I reflected on my culinary limitations – fish being the beginning and end of my menu. Change was imminent, though, I could smell it, like the stench of an old tennis ball.

Then bam, a lightbulb moment! Manoeuvring through alleys, I located a bag of wheat hidden deep into the lanes. Like a ninja under a moonless night, I smuggled that bag back to Chow Down Chow Chow. Chill up my spine, conspiracy among dog-kind as I asked the owner to introduce a ‘Vincent Special’ on the menu, flour tortilla loaded with fish and crunchy vegetables. Apocalyptic allergies be damned.

Evening descended, tired out, I hit Fetching Deli for my daily grind of dental bone. As I gnawed, silently thanked the bloke who invented these damned things. Cleared out my anxious mind, like a wash over dust-filled desert rocks.

Ready to call it a day, found a quiet corner at Doggy Donuts. Dunno what it is about that place; maybe it’s the sugary smell, or the whirling sound of the mixer. Reminds me of Victoria, my own sugar and spice and everything sweet.

I stumbled upon Princess Victoria in the back alley one of these days. Two loyal brutes in a sea of fur and teeth. She’s built like Saint Bernard, not much on looks, but brave and loyal like worth its weight in dog biscuits. Took her along with me to Happy Hounds Dog Walking, but she decided she’d rather clean her ears – a torture I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy. But maybe, just maybe, Spencerville ain’t such a terrible place after all, as long as I have Victoria by my side, a chance at culinary rebellion and a sunset that looks like a dog’s dinner in Paradise.

The End.

Share This Story: