Hey Mom,

Just wrestled with the sunrise in good ol’ Spencerville – breakfast at Chow Down, ventured through the Dalmatian Desert, and became a legend with each paw print. Shared joy with Georgia (she’s so cute when she spins), had a mini-concert at Boxer Beach, and even made friends with a cat at the spa! Ending the day curled up, my heart’s as full as my belly was this morning. Life’s a beach, and I’m just playing in the sand 😄🐾 Catch you in dreamland!

Licks & Wags,
Maddie

Listen to the story here

In the land of Spencerville, which, mind you, is as real as the whiskers on my snout, there brews a morning kissed with dew and possibilities. Hiya. I’m Maddie. You know me, the brown Chocolate Lab with eyes so bright they could guide ships through fog. Today, I wake with a stretch that arches my back like a question mark.

Listen: birds chirp somewhere in Eastern White Westie Woods, gossiping in their feathery language about who knows what—probably about how terribly inefficient we canines are at flight. Privately, I agree, but I hold my peace and dignity. Instead, I bound out of my cozy dog bed, excited, because every day here is a new miscellany of marvels.

Breakfast—ah, the aroma of it wafts from Chow Down Chow Chow. I don’t stroll there; I gambol. I take my place at the counter and order the usual. “The usual, a symphony of flavors fit for a queen,” I beam at the chef, as if I don’t come in every morning. The chef, a portly Saint Bernard, grins. He knows his craft; I know my appetite—it’s like the telling of a grand story where each bite is a word, and without one, the tale would be incomplete.

Sated, I vacate my seat for the next hungry soul and set off. Today, the Yellow Tan Dalmatian Desert calls to me—its sandy expanse a canvas for paw prints yet to be created. But a day in the life of Maddie, marked by routine, is never dull. No siree. Adventure lurks in the humdrum and the everyday. Why, I’m the myth in Mythological Fiction, the legend in my own right.

Midday seizes Spencerville with a sun held high, a giant tennis ball thrown for celestial dogs to chase. Speaking of tennis balls, mine’s nestled in my mouth as I dart across Doggy Depot. Here, I snag a bone for Georgia; the poor, dizzy mutt spins in circles when she’s overjoyed. It’s an endearing dance, really. Her routine pirouette, mine—this bone-bearing jaunt.

Now, as I trot along, paw-spectators gaze, nodding; they know me here. Maddie—friend to all, enemy to none, save for loneliness. That, my dear companion, is the one antagonist I outmaneuver at every turn. And speaking of which, here comes Georgia now, her tail whirling like a propeller. Gratitude leaks from her eyes; it’s a currency in Spencerville, the minting of relationships.

We romp to Boxer Beach, because what’s a day without the feeling of sand beneath my pads and the cool kiss of seawater on my fur? I shall tell you: it’s a day wasted. We leap into the waves, unleashing chorus upon chorus of barks which, to any untrained ear, might seem uproarious. But to those of us in the know, it’s the symphony of existence—a grand masterpiece played on the strings of delight.

When the sun begins to think about setting—it’s a contemplative thing, isn’t it?—I make my way back. A final stop at Spa for Paws, not because I need pampering, but to say hello to the marmalade tabby that runs the place—proof that old myths of eternal canine-feline rivalry are just lazy generalizations. Here, we keep our minds and hearts open.

Evenings in Spencerville are as soft as a puppy’s belly, stuffed with serenity and dreams percolating through the darkness. I curl up, toy by my side, heart heavy with the good kind of exhaustion.

So, there it crouches—a day in the life of yours truly, glimpses of a four-legged myth, wrapped in a tail that couldn’t be anything but happy. And as I drift into dreams, I remember, it’s all just time away from that certain reunion. Oh, the comfort that brings in the soft, Spencerville night.

The End.

Share This Story: