Hey Mom,

Epic day over here at Spencerville! Played knight at The Barkery, jousted custard pies (got a frosty second), and tried to tame the waves like a Bichon surfer dude. Wrapped it up by a campfire telling tall tales and snagged a keepsake pic to remember it all by. The starlit snuggles with Ruby are just the cherry on top. Dreams of tomorrow’s adventures already brewing! 😎🌊🛡

Hugs and tail wags,
Oscar Boscorelli 🐾

Listen to the story here

Ah, the crack of dawn in Spencerville, and once more it’s yours truly, Oscar Boscorelli, leaping out of a cottony cloud bed in the Upper Tails Tower of East Pug Palace. I might not be the king of the castle, but I’m certainly the duke of these digs, with my fellow canine courtiers bowing to my curly majesty… in spirit, anyway.

So here I am, giving the waking world my first tail wag of the day – an omen of good cheer and more than a few escapades to come. I check the mirror, and yup, the floof is strong with this one. With a grin that could charm a cat and Ruby clamped gallantly in my mouth, we prance out to conquer the day, the sun a spotlight upon my personal stage: A Day in the Life of Oscar, the Fluffy Knight.

Now, let’s talk breakfast. You haven’t lived ’til you’ve tasted the culinary mastery of Pup-Tastic Pizza at sunrise. I waltz in, nod to my fellow patrons, and order the special, hold the greens—ugh, veggies. More like villainy in edible form.

Hunger satisfied, Ruby and I trot to The Barkery for a sniff-and-greet. The Barkery is the round table where all us noble steeds and steers gather to exchange tales of yore and yip. Today’s joust? A pie-eating contest, heralded by a chicken leg trumpet. I bow to my competitor, a portly Bulldog named Sir Chews-a-lot. And we’re off! Custard flies, crust crumbles, victory is… hang on, brain freeze! A cunning ruse! Thus, I gracefully accept second place, because yes, vanilla ice cream is to be savored, not scarf— Who am I kidding? I was robbed!

Afternoon beams its warmth onto the sandy shores of Brindle Brown Boxer Beach where my feet meet the sand. They say every Bichon’s gotta learn to surf, and so behold as I mount my gnarly steed—a surfboard with the aerodynamics of a particularly fast sheep.

“Curse you, Neptune!” I bark as the waves scoff at my prowess. But fear not, I shall persevere! Every knight has his dragon; mine just happens to be made of water and quite indifferent to my bluster.

As the day bids adieu, I nurse my pride beside the resident campfire, a curling wreath of warmth toasting my snowy britches—way better than that wretched snow back home. I regale the crowd with exaggerated reenactments; laughter and the aroma of toasted marshmallows intermingle under the evening glow of the Pawsitively Purrfect Pet Store neon sign.

The stars glitter overhead, a cosmic reminder of the love waiting on the other side—a reunion script still hidden in the wings. But here I sit with cohorts and confidantes, each with their own fables, waiting, rehearsing for that grand finale.

Yet before the curtain falls on this bustling tableau, I saunter to Best in Show Photography, where every pooch and purr pal leaves a memento for loved ones. With Ruby poised heroically in my jaws, we immortalize today’s saga with a click and a flash. A picture speaks a thousand barks, no?

Spencerville’s night ’tis a silken blanket woven with dreams of joyrides in universes far, far away. In the comfort of East Pug Palace, I snuggle with Ruby, whispers of adventure lingering like the tantalizing aroma of steak, my tail offering a single, satisfied wag. Tomorrow beckons with more capers, but for now, Oscar Boscorelli, fluffy Bichon extraordinaire, bids you a resplendent goodnight.

And so ends a fairy tale of the fluffiest kind, a curly, white yarn spun under Spencerville sunsets. Remember, should you hear a soft snoring from a cloud not so far above, it just might be me, dreaming of the next chapter.

The End.

Share This Story: