Hey Mom,

Just FYI, in this loopy dream-story I’m the Beagle queen of Fawn Cream Meadow, trading in royal dog biscuits and outsmarting pups with my gourmet taste. Spent the day being a political pooch, opening training centers, and debating broccoli textures while dodging swimming pools like the plague. Later, I had a heart-to-heart with my bro, Jasper, under a sunset that made even my regal fur shimmer. A queen’s work is never done, but it’s filled with tail wags and doggy dreams.

Sweet sniffs,

Daphne/Baby Girl

Listen to the story here

As one traverses the winding lanes of Spencerville, a town that exists somewhere between a whisper and a dream, tales of a beagle’s benign reign over the domain of Fawn Cream Maltese Meadow circulate with the kind of fervor typically reserved for legends and freshly baked dog biscuits. I am that beagle, presiding over the Meadow not simply by the chance of fate or the color of my coat, but by the subtle play of beagle politics and palate that is as much art as it is governance.

It was just another sun-gilded morning when I found myself stretched languidly across my royal dog bed, blanketed in sapphire silks that offset my tricolor splendor. The gleam from my coppery eyes intensified, akin to the sparkle of the crown that rested jauntily on one ear—an unintended accessory that often slid askew due to my aversion to sit still.

My day typically commences with a visit to The Doggy Bagel Deli where confidant paws slap me on the back and bagels come laced with carrot ribbons, a clandestine indulgence crafted by chefs who’ve come to recognize the taste of a beagle with a refined palate. The essential nature of such a diet is not to be understated; it fuels one’s diplomatic brilliance and fortifies the soul for the day’s taxing affairs.

Today’s imperative attendance at the opening of The Pawfect Training Center finds me trotting down the boulevards lined with shops and eateries, my crown slightly askew, contemplating the inevitable encounters with my esteemed council: Raffa with her quick wit, Bonzi with his composed strategies, and, of course, the entertainers Boomer and Port, each essential to maintaining this canine kingdom’s vibrant culture.

A light pant escaped my lips as I held court outside of Kibble Cuisine, bystanders regaling each other with the story of when I, Daphne the Beagle, fiercely debated the merits of broccoli stems versus florets; an argument won on the grounds of texture and dipped in chive-infused cream for emphasis.

However, politics and broccoli aside, my most treasured moments often unravel in the quiet foothills that edge Spencerville, with Jasper, my sibling of spirit rather than blood. While he may lack a certain stature—standing no taller than the spindle-legged chairs in Chow Hound Café—his heart is as colossal as the laudable mountains themselves.

Jasper and I would muse on subjects palatial and pedestrian like sleeping spots of optimum warmth and the latest on dog toy durability. It was, of course, a bilateral disquisition; our silent language spoke volumes, a dialect that only we shared.

Swimming pools shimmer in the distance, their sight alone enough to wrinkle my nose in distaste. They mar the Spencerville landscape with their still, deceitful surfaces while I’ve issued many a royal decree that advocates the simple pleasures of dry, solid ground.

At dusk, when the shadows grow long and the bustle of Spencerville dims to the soft mutter of distant barks, the air becomes pensive. It is then that my regal demeanor gives way to reflection, and I ponder the loneliness intrinsic to leadership. It is also when I extend a paw to my companions, seeking solace and comfort. Then, tucked away in the heart of the glades, swaddled in that sapphire silk, I repose, beagle and queen, awaiting a new day’s adventure.

Though whispers of my kingdom’s grandeur shall spread far and wide, like the lazy afternoon scent of The Chow Hound Café’s sizzling steaks, my eyes will forever seek the horizon. Until the day comes when that promise of reunion becomes reality, I shall continue to rule, cherish, and dream here in Spencerville, where every tail wag tells a story and every sniff unveils a kingdom.

The End.

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