Hey Mom and Dad, it’s Vincent, aka Bear Cub! Just had one of those classic ‘Petfather’ nights in Spencerville. Caught Rain-Dance Rudy & his Damp Dogs causing a fuss again, but a single snarl was all it took to disperse the lot. Missed dinner at Pup-Tizers but defended home-turf heroically, so all’s good. Tucked in with Vicky, ready to brave the storm. Woofs and Licks, your loving, Vincent.

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Once again, I found myself wiggling from my comfortable sprawl on the couch, as I heard the familiar click-clack of the grandfather clock in the hallway. That meant dinner, and I, Vincent, the unchallenged boss of the Spencerville canine cartel, looked forward to it as much as I did retrieving my pickle toy. The mere thought of the fish-based entrée prepared by my loyal humans sent my tail into a thumping symphony.

My trembling anticipation was interrupted by the ominous rattling outside. Rain. Of all the days… The rain in Spencerville was notorious, not because it messed up our fur-dos, but because it meant the Damp Dogs gang would be skulking the streets. The Damp Dogs, a snarling pack of Spitz’s led by a rascally runt called ‘Rain-dance Rudy.’ Every rainy night they prowled the streets of Spencerville, causing ruckus along Black Bulldog Bay and Boxer Beach. I guess being weather-resistant does things to your psyche.

I sighed, brushing the fluffy white dreadlock dangling from my forehead. I was looking forward to a calm evening at Pup-Tizers, trying their new Pomeranian-Patty special. Now, I had to prepare my crew, Princess Victoria included, for possible upheaval.

“Vicky, we gotta situation,” I spoke, my voice a gentle thunder rumbling through our cozy den. She peeked from under her paw, a questioning look in her honey-brown eyes. I briefed her about Rudy and the Damp Dogs. With a sigh of resignation, she nervously licked her chops – we were in this together.

We set out, my paws going squish-squish against the wet sidewalks. Strolling past The Pawfect Training Center, we caught sight of Rudy and his gang, fur slick against the rain, causing a ruckus beside Chow Down Chow Chow.

In Spencerville we were all family, you see, a bunch of strays and sticks who found solace in a kernel of warmth offered by unknown humans. And this was no place for Rudy and his stormy antics.

“Rudy!” I hollered, standing upright, holding Princess Victoria close. He turned, a squeaky defiant snarl ripping through his tiny figure. But the sight of all 170-pounds of raggedy white-black courage was enough for him. His tiny tail went between his legs, and off scampered the Damp Dogs.

Striding back under the safety of our roof, I brushed the excess water off my fur, Vicky nuzzling her fluffy head against my belly. What a night! We may have missed the Pomeranian-Patty special, but we sure as hell proved who the Big Dog in Spencerville was.

So, under the blanket of a stormy Spencerville night, the pet mob boss found solace once again, curled up on the couch, Vicky by my side, a pickle toy wedged between my teeth and a defiant whisper in the wind, “I’m Vincent, the Petfather.”.

The End.

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