Hey Dad, it’s Zubazz. Bit of a wild day here, I’ve managed to find myself in the dog slammer! ‘Fishicide’ charges, believe it or not. But no worries, Spencer and I are digging my way to freedom via a secret tunnel from our Pug Palace. Who knew life would turn into a canine edition of the Shawshank Redemption, eh? Woof! – Russell

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Naught but a regular day in Spencerville, that’s what it was supposed to be. Russell awoke in the pug palace that morning, yawned wider than the town’s bakery oven and wriggled Mugsy, the plush bulldog, under his chin. From breakfast at Doggy Bagel Deli to an impromptu romp in Bulldog Bay, everything smelled of the ordinary. Even the unexpected ‘incarceration’ was just another blip on the radar.

“Oh, I’m in the pound now?” Russell muttered at the sight of the looming walls of the animal shelter around him, a touch of indignation colouring his voice. “Must’ve missed the memo.”

I mean, an English Bulldog with a body that could pass off as a caterpillar bulldozer, suddenly finding himself in the slammer? Could be a decent story for Spencerville’s local tabloid, I suppose.

“So, what now? Am I supposed to carve out a feces Picasso on the walls with my paw?” he asked, “I can’t help but feel this would make much better theatre if Mugsy were here.”

Except Mugsy wasn’t here and that was the problem. Being accused of knocking over a fish tank at Fishy Bites was the sort of script Russell would like to discard in the nearest bin. All he ever wanted was a simple life involving friends, cheesesteaks, and avoiding vacuum cleaners, pools and oceans at all costs. But now, something thicker than his bulldog skin came to the fore, an instinct that said, “Solve the mystery, hitch your duck – sorry, dog – boat to freedom.”

“Russell. I’ve got a plan,” a voice whispered through the walls. It was familiar – all bright-eyed mischief and dogged determination. Spencer. “You didn’t do it. And I know a way out.”

Russell looked out through the barricades. “I don’t particularly relish flirting with life in prison.” A joke but you can hear the worry underneath, can’t you?

Unperturbed, Spencer outlined a daring escape plan involving a hidden tunnel near Pug Palace. It sounded ludicrous, somewhat like the time when they tried hiring termites to carve out a sculpture from a tree trunk. “Trust me,” Spencer said. “It’s foolproof.”

Hesitation gave way to a certain damning fate. “Is this any worse than being found guilty of fishicide?” The choice was as agonising as deciding between a bagel and prime ribs. But the spirit of the unexpected won, and so the bold idea was set in motion.

And thus, beneath the watchful eyes of Best in Show Photography and the unintended pun of Canine Couture Clothing, an audacious escape plan hatched. The fallout? As unpredictable as Russell’s life leading up to that day. But that’s a story for another day. As for now? I’ll just say this. Russell is guilty, alright. Guilty of being a darn good dog.

The End.

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