Hey Fam,

Tankers here. Just livin’ it up in Spencerville. Plenty of biscuits at Doggy Bagel Deli, dodging doggy spa days at the Groom Room – you know the usual. Can’t escape them dang carrots, they’re like veggies with a vengeance. All in all, still chasing balls and figuring out the squeaky mysteries of life. And let’s not forget, always one step behind Lulu on the chew toy front. Send my love to all!

– T

Listen to the story here

Well, here I am, Tank – Life in Spencerville, it’s not quite Rochester, but it’s something. Imagine a town like a breezy Sunday afternoon, we have places like Fawn Cream Maltese Meadow, great spot. Almost reminds me of Coney Island. Although I think I’ve contemplated intently more blades of grass than hot dogs there. I could gamble a hefty amount on that claim.

Then there’s the Doggy Bagel Deli, go there for breakfast, be bready or be square, that’s what they say. Although, between us, the croissants make great Frisbees, but they not as easy on the stomach as the lox and bagel. Remember that place, especially if you’re in the mood for schmoozing or carbs.

There’s also a place that’s not exactly my forte – The Groom Room. Don’t get me wrong; the ladies do a stand-up job, but I don’t see the point of a bath if you can roll in the grass, dirt, and maybe a mud puddle or two, right? It’s like reversing a masterpiece.

And talking about an oddity in my daily like, a splash of beer. I know you’re thinking it’s not your traditional beverage of choice for a fellow like me, and you’re absolutely spot right. But it’s the cynicism I feel towards the water from that ever-lasting hose. Something about a sudsy tingling on your tongue is unmatched, believe you me.

Now, you aren’t going to believe this, but I experienced what humans call an existential crisis. Chewing on one of my favorite squeaky bone toys, I thought, “Does this toy still squeak if I’m not around to chomp on it?” Terribly nerve-wracking revelation, I’ll tell you.

But every silver lining has a cloud. You see, my vice is a passion for balls; no, scratch that – an obsession. Balls of any size or shape, if it rolls, it has my attention – it’s my burst of oblivion in this ever puzzling Spencerville.

There’s a downside to living here though. You would think it’s the vegetables, right? Nope, it’s the dreaded carrot. I’ve tried to outsmart that root, hide its existence under some juicy steak but alas, it has an uncanny knack for finding its way back on my dinner plate.

Now, about Lulu, my sibling. I’m not generally sentimental, but with Lulu, it’s like we’ve got this psychic, sibling connection going on. She gets to the rawhide chew toy before I even know it’s out of the cupboard. It’s eerie. I’ve grown to love Lulu the same way humans love seeing their analysts on the holidays – it’s strange but comforting, wouldn’t change it for the world.

So, that’s me in a nutshell – a brindle-coated Old English Bulldog living in the idiosyncrasies of Spencerville. And amidst all the hustle and bustle, the eccentricities, and the beer, I’d like to think of myself as a somewhat philosopher; a thinker beyond the chew toys, the sibling rivalry and even beyond the dreaded carrots. Life here is good; it’s odd but it’s good. I wouldn’t have it any other way, really.

The End.

Share This Story: