Hey Mom,

Your pint-sized king, Kirby is at it again – ruling Boxer Beach with his dinosaur scepter and goldfish cracker crumbs for a crown. Doesn’t care much for baths or bananas, but boy does he love his fishy crackers! Today’s highlight: Kirby’s standoff with the town’s biggest dogs. Spoiler alert: they backed down first. Sending love from the Bark Shak – your Sugar-face. xo

Listen to the story here

In all my days in Spencerville, I ain’t never seen a dog like Kirby. Now, don’t assume I’m dismissing all your Belles and your Rovers and your Spot – those round here got their charm, sure as rain. But Kirby, he was a rarity.

He went about town, small and white as a linen doily, but with a spirit as big as the grandest elephant pulling the circus into town. Folks would watch how he’d amble along with this lil’ purple dinosaur clamped in his jaws, like it were a scepter or something. Our English king, they’d call him, humoring themselves. Even the big dogs at the park, the ones who would otherwise lay claim to the territory, they’d cower before Kirby – respect and fear all wrapped up in one gruff package.

Ain’t no story of Kirby complete without his golden delicacy – the goldfish crackers. It was a sight to reckon with, watching him munch on them. Crumbs flying this way and that, yet Kirby didn’t mind none. He was in his own little heaven with every crunch. The fun Kirby had with those crackers made even old Banjo at the Bark Shak want to swap his wet food for some.

Don’t be taken in by that soft picture though, Kirby ain’t no pushover. Express your love for bananas or utter the ‘B’ word, and you’d see his bull-headed stubbornness shine bright and fierce. He’d refuse a banana offered in friendship, yes, and that simple bath would turn him to a wet rocket, zipping around all corners, all frantic till his freedom was secured.

He’d strut around Pug Palace like he owned the place, his bristly paws tapping out a hasty beat on a hustle here, a power play there. The other pets – they’d think twice about crossing paths with our petite Petfather. ‘Round the Pampered Pooch Salon, tales were spun of Kirby’s unavoidable bath showdowns and his ongoing feud with bananas. Kirby’s escapades would amuse and inspire the town, making the wait to meet their owners just a bit more exciting.

When I tuck in for the night, closing up Pet Partners Pet Supplies, my mind drifts to Kirby, lording over at Boxer Beach. He sits, a silhouette against Spencerville’s pastel twilight, his purple dinosaur close, glittering goldfish cracker crumbs, evidence of a feast, hovering around him like some ethereal crown. In the silence, I can’t help but shake me head, chuckle, adore, and respect everything that Kirby is, and hope that I’ll be half the character Kirby is when I get there.

The End.