Hey Mom,

Guess what? I turned into a bit of a hero! Led a foggy-day rescue with Rudolph (yup, Shiloh’s new nickname). His shiny nose saved the holiday here in Spencerville, and I helped! It was like something out of a storybook. Turns out, every odd trait has a purpose – even a glowing snout. 🐾

Hug,
Molly

Listen to the story here

The glare of the Retriever River, like liquid gold, had me squinting something fierce as Woody and I lounged on its banks. We weren’t much for talking, what with Woody’s mind on the approaching holiday hustle and mine on the way the sun played shadow puppets against my coat.

“You think Shiloh’s ready for the big day?” Woody asked, finally breaking our silence, his eyes glued to the distance as if he could see all the way into tomorrow.

I stretched, feeling the sand squeeze between my toes. “Shiloh’s born for it. Who doesn’t want a hero with a shiny nose lighting up the Christmas path? Beats a lighthouse.”

Corgi Castle loomed in the periphery, banners fluttering in some cheery dance only they knew, yet we stayed put, letting the evening creep up on us. That’s when the fog rolled in, thick as the cream on top of a Fisherman’s Catch from Fetch-N-Bites, shrouding the Spencerville in a eerie cloak.

“Ah, damn,” I muttered. That cursed fog came in like some tyrant bent on blotting out our quaint corners of existence.

Woody sat up, ears twitching. “Molly, that’s the kind you could cut with a knife.”

The kind of fog where Rudolph the Red-Nosed Retriever’s beacon snout could cut through the ghostly mist like a hot knife through Doggy Delight’s butter-cream cake. I could see Rudolph now, nose blazing, a legend. No longer the outcast.

Just then, the Mayor’s bell chimed, ringing through the obscured township like some desperate plea. Woody’s tail thunked against the ground. “Reckon that’s the call.”

I rose up, stretching into my full height, felt every muscle hone into a defined purpose. “Duty calls, my friend. Time for our mate to shine. Rudolph will guide this night’s voyage.”

We darted through the streets of Spencerville, dodging the shadows that lurked in the foggy corners, past Doggy Donuts where the scent of freshly baked pastries lingered futilely, trying to tempt any soul brave enough to venture out into the murk. I caught the glint of desperation in the storekeepers’ eyes, the same look I imagine my own now mirrored.

“Shiloh needs us,” Woody said, vindication in his voice, as if that statement alone would slice a path for us through the miasma. And darn it, he was right. We were a pack, and no dim weather could diminish the light of our unity.

When we found Shiloh, his luminescence was like a beacon from a lighthouse, a spectacle I’d bet even Best in Show Photography couldn’t capture.

“Ready to light the way?” I asked, my voice steady despite the tremor of excitement.

“I was always ready,” Shiloh replied, a confidence soaring over us that I swear could’ve blown the fog clean back to where it came from.

That night, Shiloh and his glowing nose led the charge, just as sure as I lead my own little adventures. And in that hushed, fog-covered enclave of Spencerville, a town lavish with legends and licked by the tongues of countless stories, we realized something vital – every trait, odd or not, held the potential to ascend to greatness beyond measure.

That’s the night they started calling him Rudolph, and I tell you, friend, it was the night Spencerville learned that every fog, be it as thick as holiday gravy, could be conquered with a little help from a glowing nose and a heart full of faith.

The End.