Hey Mom,

Had to claw my way out of a furry frame-up today. Accused of a kibble catastrophe I didn’t commit, I teamed up with Spencerville’s finest misfits and pulled off a spectacular “pet break.” Found the real evidence at the photo studio – I’m innocent! Justice served, tails still wagging. Life’s paw-some again!

Stay whiskery,
Caly 🐾✨

Listen to the story here

I never thought I would need an escape plan. Life in Spencerville is a tail’s wag away from paradise. Unlike the place whence I came, it’s a world tailored for us – the departed pets, living a second leash on life, nestled between the cheerfully bustling Yappy Yogurt and the renowned Fetch! Toys and Treats. Pawsitively perfect, if you ask anyone with four legs and a tail.

But here I am, Calypso – Siberian Husky, lover of the lands blanketed with ivory snow and a bit of mischief. Wrongfully accused. They said I overturned the kibble at Bow Wow Burgers – a crime of unspeakable mess. Certainly not something a canine of my breeding would dream of doing, especially when one’s reputation is as spotless as a well-groomed pelt.

A mutt might wonder how I got here, behind the whimsical bars of Golden Gate Gardens – which, I’ll grant you, are neither golden nor much of a garden. Certainly not a place for the innocent.

“A setup,” I murmur to myself, my voice as muted as the soft fall of snow “someone’s idea of a tail-chaser.”

In the land of Spencerville, tales of reunions keep us barking, but this enclosure is starting to feel like a real collar – tight and confining. Brushed fur aside, I’m more pensive than a philosopher. Strategy, Calypso, that’s what you need.

I trot over to the confined oasis’ walls, eyeing Labradoodle Lake in the distance. “Distraction,” I whisper, “that’s the first step.” I need to orchestrate a masterpiece, a symphony of diversions.

“Chow Chow over there,” I think to myself. “Seen him romp around Fur Tacos—quick, nimble on his feet.” A potential accomplice? Perhaps. I need a team, a crew of sorts, crafted out of the most unexpected fellow inmates – the Pomeranian with a penchant for digging; the Greyhound, whose speed is as legendary as my appetite; the Golden Retriever, so charming he could waggle out of any tight spot.

A clever plan is hatching, a veritable “pet break,” you might call it. In the absence of a traditional hat, I put on my metaphorical thinking cap—one marked with an invisible “P” for “problem solver.”

I gather the crew, a hodgepodge of characters each more colorful than the last, under the pale moonlight of Spencerville’s ever-eternal night. “Listen up,” I start, my voice steady with confidence I’m far from feeling. “In the grand tapestry of Spencerville myths, ours will be a titan tale.”

They lean in, eyes wide with intrigue and the spark of forthcoming adventure, as I lay out the plan in the manner of the great heist planners. We are not just escaping; we’re reclaiming our place in this idyllic land. We’ll manoeuvre through the corridors of the Fawn Pug Palace, under the cover of darkness, and out into the freedom of night.

The Pomeranian’s tiny paws meet the earth like nature’s shovels, grinding beneath the walls. The Greyhound watches, twitching his ears at every faint rustle beyond our clandestine operation. The Golden, faithful compatriot, is all charm and wagging tail, ready to distract the sleepy St. Bernard guards with so much as a whimper.

And I, Calypso, weave through the shadows, my plush orange-tipped banner of a tail the only sign of mischief afoot.

The plan unfolds flawlessly—paws and pride intact. As we emerge into the freedom of night, I can’t help but think, this tale of escape will be savored over many a meal at Yappy Yogurt and whispered about amongst the pups at Spa for Paws.

Through the darkened streets of Spencerville we dart, dodging in and out of the amber glow of street lamps, heading for our penultimate destination, the Best in Show Photography studio. A place of memories captured in perpetuity, where the truth of my innocence lies in the reflective gaze of a camera lens. And soon enough, the evidence will shimmer in plain view for all to see: Calypso, framed, but unfaltering.

Maybe, as those humans say – justice has its day, even in Spencerville. Alright, enough waxing lyrical. There’s work to be done. We bolt, us merry band of escapees, into the heart of the night with tales of triumph on our tongues and a hop in our step.

After all, even the innocent have their day… and sometimes, just sometimes, it’s the day we break free.

The End.