Hey, it’s Spoiler, the free-spirited Pitbull mix of Spencerville! Been busy saving the day with the perfect blend of wit, whimsy, and drool. Enlisted Rocky, outsmarted cats, and planned strategic countertactics over a fine meal at Bone Appetit. ps. Avoided the vet. 😉 Hugs and howls, your cuddly, occasionally stubborn savior, Spoiler.

Listen to the story here

Ah, what a day to be alive, or well, sort of alive, in Spencerville! There I was, Spoiler, the very definition of a Pitbull mix muscle-head with whimsy on my tongue and a yearning for adventure to tickle my stout frame. It was just another eventful day, filled to the brim with the kind of endeavors only a free-spirited Spencervillian dog like me could dream up.

Jet-pawing through the fabled lanes of Spencerville, past the soft, inviting frontage of the Snooty Snout Boutique, you could often hear my low growl paired with a joyful bark that would say, “Ah, Spoiler, you old sly dog! You’ve outwitted fate yet again.”

One particular day, with my blue ball securely stowed in my jowls and my green ring hanging around my neck, I saw my fair friend, Rocky Road, looking more bewildered than a Cocker Spaniel stuck in a candy store. He was pawing nervously at the door of the Howling Husky Hardware Store, a place no self-respecting dog would dare to set paw in. I rushed, or lumbered more adequately, over to him.

“Rocky, you ignorant mutt. What on earth could you possibly need from there?” I rumbled, orbs almost popping out of my sockets.

Rocky turned his beautifully marbled eyes towards me, “A saw, Spoiler. We need a saw.”

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t suppress a grin. A plan had been set into motion.

As we trotted towards the Bone Appetit — home to the best in doggie-dining, we checked off our Pup-Tizers, ever the tactical pair we were. You see, this was no time to play fetch. Somewhere between the rush of today and yesteryear’s dreams, it had been announced – a horde of menacing zom-cats were inching towards our beloved Spencerville.

And so, we plotted, planned and prepared tasty eateries to ward off the dreaded feline invasion. This was no time for backyard lounging or canine-cuisine scoffing! As leader of the pack, yours truly, had to put a paw down!

Oh, the nerves, the tension! You could cut it with a doggie biscuit. As we braced ourselves, all I could think of was “Spoiler, you smart dog! You can do this. And remember, whatever happens, avoid the vet at all costs!” Rest assured, if there’s a rewrite to the doggie-Hobo code, it’s this, never, ever leave your pack behind, especially when there’s a potential zom-cat invasion!

But you see, that’s a story best saved for another day. For now, Spencerville was safe– as prepared as a beautiful pet-town could be. And I, Spoiler, the ever brave, cuddly and occasionally stubborn Pitbull mix, was leader of the pack, owner of the blue ball, and the savior of Spencerville. And so, we waited, ready to bark till our voices croaked or wag our tails till our furry buttocks ached.

The End.