Hey Mom, it’s Wafflette! Just a quick fetch-up, found myself a sun-kissed golden fur-hue, traded Mr. Duck for Rainbow Star with Cookie (that tux-loving hound), hit Doggy Donuts to fill the ‘woofalicious’ hole in my life. Still miss Her every bark-second. Oh, world’s suddenly brighter, caught whiff of fresh-baked treats. Till next tail-tale, stay pawsome! Woofs & Wags, Waffles.

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So there I was, sunbathing by the pool—the ol’ fur glowing golden in the sun, mind you. Not baking myself into a waffle, per se, but a “fur-suntan” sounded truckloads cooler in my universally renowned tail-wagging rants to Oscar.

“A hot dog, that’s what you look like,” he had retorted, his uniquely mismatched eyes, one mysterious blue, the other a knowing brown, dancing with laughter from across the yard. That was before Mr. Duck and Rainbow Star interrupted our banter, conveniently snuck into my mouth by Squeaky, the slurpiest gossipmonger this side of Beagle Beach.

Remember Squeaky? The tabloidal tabby from three doors down – real brother from another mother. Between his drama and Cookie, the haute-couture hound in a tux, the only way guardians could tell us apart was my distinguished steak-and-chicken-breath allure. Spencervillian casual-chic, dahling!

As round as a big doggy donut, Mr. Duck squeaked a muffled protest under my canine crunch. Kinda hurt my feelings, him being my beloved toy and all. So, I gave him to Cookie. “Trade ya?” I woofed in perfect Dawglish.

Cookie leered at the well-chewed duck, sniffing suspiciously before whipping out a half-bitten Rainbow Star, still sparkling with summer sequins and the essence of my slobber. Deal secured, my escapade swiftly deviated towards the howling delights of Doggy Donuts, a much-desired hound hot-spot.

Here in Spencerville, restos like Bow Wow Burgers, Doggy Donuts, and Tail Waggers were a must-visit. One couldn’t simply resist their pawsome platters. The allure of fresh-baked doggy donuts filled with peanut butter and bacon entrails was simply too ‘woofalicious’ to resist.

Yet beneath the puzzlingly perfect veneer of Spencerville, I often found myself in the grip of a bodily angst. Friends, family, toys—they all twinkled brilliantly in my life, filling my days with wag-worthy moments. But nothing could fill the void left by Her—the lady with soft hands, kind eyes, and a chicken nugget scent.

Ever miss something so bad that you could feel your tail unravelling? Well, for me, that something wasn’t a ‘something.’ It was a ‘someone.’ A soft sigh swept past my fur, rustling it absently. Aah, life! Cruelly divine. Let the chase begin, I suppose.

Oh, look, Doggy Donuts!

And just like that, the world suddenly seems like a more waggable place. Freakin’ supernatural, my sense of smell.

The End.

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