Hey Mom 😊,

Just a quick update from your resident hero, Terrible Tara Bull! Turns out, I’ve been busy saving Thanksgiving—uncovered a parade conspiracy, befriended a lonesome hound, and turned a villain into part of our pack! Thought I was just in it for the turkey, right? Oh, and Spencerville is more spirited than ever. Can’t wait to tell you all about it over some mashed potatoes.

Hugs and wet noses,
Tara 🐾🦃

Listen to the story here

As the November sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the Spencerville sky with hues of orange and crimson, a sense of urgency buzzed through Upper Collie Canyon. Something was amiss—decorations lay scattered on the cobblestone paths, floats once boasting vibrant colors now donned scars of vandalism, and The Doggy Bagel Deli, a victim of pilfered pastries.

I sat on my back porch, soaking in the final rays of a sun that neither burned nor blistered in this little paradise. The air was filled with an uneasy quiet—a stark contrast to the cheerful clatter that one would expect on the eve of our annual Thanksgiving Day parade. I shuddered, not due to the chill—Spencerville had none—but from the disturbance of our peace.

Curiosity tugged at my leash. I considered staying put, lazing about until Eddie would invariably pop by to share the juicy gossip. Moments ticked by, and my serene state lost to the stubborn curiosity that always seemed to lead my paws. It wasn’t long before those very paws found their pace trotting toward town.

A figure skulked in the shadows of Dalmatian Desert’s outskirts. The fine hairs on my back stood at attention. This was more than a game of fetch—it was real, and it was happening on MY patch.

“Aren’t you a bit far from The Woofy Bakery’s comfort, Tara?” Eddie’s jibe came not a moment too soon, him leaning on the southern drawl as if it was going out of style.

“I reckon sweet treats can’t fix this mess.” I nodded at the crumpled banners near us. “Looks to me like someone’s trying to skedaddle our parade.”

Eddie flanked me, his own senses on alert, the gleam in his eyes hinting at the thrill. “Reckon we got ourselves a mystery, pardner.”

Together, we rounded up the gang—from old Max at the Fur Tacos, who’d seen his fair share of tomfoolery, to the sprightly pups at the Bow Wow Bistro who possessed more energy than sense. We shared the same goal—to safeguard the essence of our Thanksgiving gathering.

Investigation led to clues, witnesses’ barks, and trails followed—each footprint another piece of the puzzle. Our culprit? A shadowy loner of a hound, jealous and bitter, harboring the notion that festivities weren’t for his kind. Seeing the joy it brought us made his isolation keenly felt.

Yet, when we faced him, there was no bearing of teeth, no growls—just silent gazes. I pondered his loneliness, so alien in a place like Spencerville but understood by my very being.

“Eddie,” I murmured, a plan forming in the midst of our standoff, “What say we show him what Thanksgiving is all about?”

A nod, and we extended an olive branch—or a turkey leg, rather. We revealed to him that this day was for all, and each of us, no matter the background or breed, had a place at this table.

The scent of resolution blended with the mending of torn streamers and realigned floats. The parade would roll on, not just a procession of show but of meaning; inclusivity, compassion, and an outstretched paw to those once hidden in the shadows.

We strutted through Southern Golden Retriever River; our reformed villain now marched proudly among us—an extra cheer in the air for the unexpected unity. And so we reveled—not just in the spectacle of the parade, but in the triumphs of shared understanding and newfound companionships.

The day waned, hearts warmed, and the villain, no more, found amongst the throng a family to call his own. As I curled up on my cherished backyard turf, the day’s adventures replayed like a well-loved tale, my heart swelled with the steadfast spirit of Spencerville, where no paw tread alone, and every growl could turn to a greeting.

Underneath the Spencerville sky, I closed my eyes, dreaming of green beans and car-rides, content in knowing the true bounty of Thanksgiving—a bounty beyond measure.

The End.