Hey Mom,

So, the cheeky tale of mine and Ginger’s life is setting in a place called Spencerville. Picture ham-loving, sun-soaking water baby Ginger knocking bagels back at the local deli, making waves in the ocean, and then chilling at her spa. Imagine her reigning queen from her castle, yet reminiscing of days spent curled up on our couch. Spencerville, where a piece of our heart is frolicking. Miss that furry rascal a lot.

-GingerStrong

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With a sigh, I picked up my steaming coffee and stared out the window, my fingers instinctively reaching out to the empty patch of rug next to my chair – Ginger’s spot. She was no longer there, but morning rituals die hard. Shaking my head, a small smile escaped as I recollected her prancing around our couch, the squeaky ball never far from her sight.

A friend had recently told me about Spencerville, a mythical town where pets rest in blissful peace, waiting to reunite with us again. There, Ginger would’ve been treated to the royal life she so deserved. A day alone was rare for Ginger; her grimaces at being left alone were evidently comical.

In Spencerville, I bet Ginger would start each day with a visit to The Doggy Bagel Deli, her tail wagging excitedly as she caught the whiffs of deli ham. Attentive eyes sparkling, she’d enjoy the exceptional service before sauntering over to Bark and Bites for dessert. Our very own Ginger would never trade her deli ham for veggies – understandable who would? I wonder if Ginger ever found vegetables mildly interesting in Spencerville.

Following her food quest, the hot afternoon sun of Spencerville would definitely make other pets recede to the shade. But not our water baby. Rumor has it, there’s an ocean in Spencerville, the ultimate source of joy for Ginger. Basking in the sunshine, our radiant toy Shihtzu would rush into the waves, water spraying around, capturing the essence of joy like a maiden’s laugh.

Early evenings, I reckon, would be spent in Fawn Cream Maltese Meadow, surrounded by her elite gang of friends, her mingled loyalty and protectiveness forming a warm cocoon around them. Despite her preference for solitude, in Spencerville, Ginger would probably blend in perfectly. A regular at the Spa for Paws, where she’d trot in and out among the elite doggy patrons. Following spa day, like clockwork, Ginger would take her friends to the Shepherd’s Skyline for a breathtaking view. Nights would most likely be spent holding court from her plush seat at the Choco Chihuahua Castle, embracing the stature she always held.

At bedtime, though, I suspect she’d retreat to her humble abode, sprint across her backyard, prancing around unfazed by her day. Nights were special to Ginger, the fireplace reminiscent of our cozy space back home. The thought of her curling near it, her mind wandering back to her human’s lap brings a tear to my eye. But as my friend says, she is waiting to be reunited with me in that perfect little town, biding her time with squeaky balls and deli ham. Remembering this, I pour another cup of coffee, preparing myself for another day, without Ginger.

I raise my mug, whispering into the void, “To Ginger, In Spencerville, till we meet again.” The comforting sound of ebb and flow from my own little ocean soothes me, the promise of Spencerville hushing my longing heart.

The End.

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