Hey Mom and Dad,

Just a quick update from your Bear Cub. I’m living the island life—literally got marooned with Tibbles and Rufus. Leading the pack and making the best of it. Inventing Vinny’s Island Grammar and missing our comfy couch. Could use one of those dental bones right about now! More tales when I return to my Spencerville throne.

Hugs and howls,
Vincent 🐾✨

Listen to the story here

Okay, first off, let me tell you that life in Spencerville is paw-sitively fabulous, if you catch my drift. I’m Vincent the Venerable Newfoundland, but you can call me Vinny – everyone does, especially since I’ve become somewhat of a local legend. I mean, it’s not every day that you see a dog of my considerable charm and taste stranded on an island. Yep, you heard that right, an island—like ‘Lost’, but with more tail wagging and far less confusing plot twists.

Anyway, this particular unpredictable Tuesday morning, I awoke with a stretch and a yawn on a picturesque beach that was suspiciously not part of the Dalmatian Desert – where I distinctly remember digging an impressive hole just yesterday. My first thought, naturally, was, “Where’s my dental bone?” Priorities, right? But then, sniffing the salty sea air, I realized that wasn’t my home turf.

Beside me, arrayed in a disorganized slumber party arrangement, were my buddies—Tibbles the tabby with a talent for tipping trash cans, and Rufus, a bulldog with a snore that could summon the dead. Quite the crew we were.

We sat, panting and confuddled (that’s confused and befuddled, in human speak), peering out across the daunting expanse of water. How in the doggone world did we end up here?

Rufus, with his characteristic bluntness, was the first to break our puzzled silence. “Well, this is a real pickle,” he grumbled, probably because he saw me eyeing my favorite quirky pickle toy that, by some stroke of luck or canine providence, had made the voyage with us.

“More like a real jar of pickles,” Tibbles quipped, his whiskers twitching with amusement. Leave it to a cat to keep his sense of humor in a survival situation.

I had to take charge. After all, as the largest and fluffiest of our trio, I was the unofficial pack leader. “Alright friends, we stick together. We can’t spell ‘stranded’ without ‘and’, which means ‘together’ in Vinny grammar,” I declared, even though I wasn’t entirely sure that made any sense. No one contested it.

We set out to explore, though not before I found a private moment to mourn the absence of my nightly dental bone ritual. Dogs thrive on routine, you know!

The island was bountiful, much to our surprise. We stumbled upon a grove that bore an uncanny resemblance to the Woofy Bakery’s garden—same whimsical vibe, same delightful scents, just with more coconuts and less pastries. Rufus immediately claimed a coconut, declaring it his new best friend. “Wilson,” he named it—I think I saw a tear.

Our days morphed into a rhythm: search for food, build shelter, find fresh water, and, in my case, daydream about how my couch felt under my belly. Oh, how I longed for my cozy kingdom and my bonded sister, Princess Victoria’s reassuring nuzzle. I even missed the Tail Waggers and The Cat’s Meow Sushi—fish was my only meat of choice, and the island didn’t deliver on that.

As we built our homes, mine was, of course, the largest—mostly to accommodate my ample frame but also because I fashioned it after my beloved park hangout spot. Tibbles chose a stylish tree domicile with ocean views, while Rufus went for a more minimalist approach, digging a hole next to Wilson.

All in all, we formed a micro Spencerville, a home away from home. Yes, it got tough, and my fur was perpetually sandy, but take it from me, even stranded on a deserted island, dogs (and fine, cats too) can make the best of it.

I mean, could someone please just roll in with my nightly dental bone on a silver platter? Anyone? Yeah, didn’t think so. But one day, when we make it back to Spencerville, I’ll have quite the tail to wag. Until then, island life isn’t so ruff with great company and a good dose of that Vincent charm.

The End.