Hey Mom,

Just a quirky update from Spencerville! Clovis here, you know, your brave and brindle champion? Embracing the peace, and feasting on grub that could beat any dream meal. Even conquered a few old fears, beaches and rain now just figments of past. But guess what though? A new villain dropped in and things have taken a twist. Turns out, I got to flex my muscles. Love it here in Spencerville, Mom, far from the madding crowd yet in the heart of thrilling adventure.

Caviar dreams,

Clovie.

Listen to the story here

I never placed too much stock in paradise till I caught sight of Spencerville. One might nay say, call it a utopia, a nearly perfect mirage for the dearly departed hounds of the world. Is it perfect? Almost. Is it tranquil? As peaceful as a softly humming lullaby.

Don’t suppose you’ve heard of Clovis. He’s something of a legend ’round here. A chunky, sturdy hound, brindle as a summer’s twilight, curiosity speckling his bright eyes. He’s a fine believer in the art of loyalty, his devotion to his keeper, as earnest as the day is long.

Clovis was once a prisoner to his phobias – beaches, big cities, even his own kin presented themselves as demons in disguise. In Spencerville, no such torment threatened his peace. And rain. The poor mutt trembled just at the notion of it. Yet, gentle Spencerville seemed to understand, granting him sunny days and endless grassy canvases for sunbathing, leaving rain as a mere figment of his worst nightmares.

Strange, ain’t it, how the world changes you? Once, that fluffy, white stuffed bone was all Clovis needed. But once you taste what Spencerville’s got to offer…I tell ya, Paws On The Grill can beat one’s wildest canine dreams with their wet food. It was as though he’d known naught before, every spoonful a bit of culinary ballet that had him twirling in gustatory pleasure.

Clovis and Gilbert walked along Golden Retriever River, memories of old drifting on the soft breeze. Of early days shadowing their beloved keepers. Of hands, gentle and safe. Of White Westie Woods, and the warmth of Pup-Peroni’s oven-baked treats in chilly winters.

All was right in our little world of Spencerville till a menacing shadow, bearing the stench of danger, stepped lightly into the PAWfect Training Center, disrupting the symphony of contented dogs. The harmonious hum of thriving pet life was replaced by a silence as thick as Zelda’s tri-color coat. This was danger. Real, high-stakes danger.

But he was Clovis in Spencerville. A haunted hound morphed into a brave defender. The challenge was on, and Clovis, with me, Gilbert, standing by his side, now had a bone to pick.

The End.

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