Hey Mom,

Turns out, I’m the tail-waggin’ hero of Spencerville, orchestrating a doggy Christmas countdown filled with joy, howls, and a splash of mischief. From deckin’ the halls with my furry pals to leading the Santa Paws Parade, I’ve spread cheer (and a few crumbs) all over town. Ended the twelve days curled up, dreaming of Christmas magic with Santa’s sleigh high in the sky. Sleep tight knowing your boy’s heart is as full as his belly!

Sweet dreams,
Smuckers 🐾✨

Listen to the story here

Day One

I’m up at the crack of dawn, as usual—habit, I guess, or maybe just the unbridled excitement of December’s crisp air tickling my whiskers. Morning in Spencerville has the town cloaked in a misty breath, winter whispering secrets only a dog can hear. The countdown to Christmas has started, with the first snowfall tickling my nose, and let me tell you, it’s like every single snowflake is a symphony composed just for the likes of us—trailing through Greyhound Grove with noses to the ground and tails painting joy in the chilly gusts.

I trot by Ruff-n-Ready, where the clatter of dishes echoes into the street and swirls with the steam of fresh Paws-A-Latte. I raise my snout, inhaling the scents—ooh, they’ve got the good bacon today—before I pivot back to Shepherd Skyline.

Day Two

Bailey’s howl cuts through the morning air—like a siren leading me to mischief. You see, in Spencerville, it’s not about marking the days with simple dog deeds; it’s about crafting the moments that make the season sing. Today, we’re like elves with a plan: twelve days, twelve surprises. And so, our unique rendition of The Twelve Dogs of Christmas kicks off. Dogs from Bulldog Bay to Shepherd Skyline are in a tail-wagging thrill. Today? A feast of decoration.

Pierre and I, with paws as steady as a surgeon’s, help hang the garlands that dazzle like a constellation only we can see. The town glitters, and my heart swells a little larger. Like they say, you can’t start the yuletide cheer too early, nor pile the tinsel too high.

Day Three

Ever chased a dream? How about a dozen? Today, we’re painting the town in colours brighter than the red of a London bus. Pierre, with his artistic flair, devises a mural on The Doggy Depot wall that has pups pausing mid-strut, admiration in their eyes.

The image? A snow-capped meadow, each dog of Spencerville frolicking—ear to ear with yuletide glee. To any outsider, quite the spectacle. To us, it’s just another Wednesday.

Day Four

Fourth day. Carrots. Not the ones I’d normally crunch with glee, but ones shaped from the fluffiest batter at Pup-Peroni. Our special menu item today—a tribute to… well, let’s be honest, me. I sample the first one.

“What do you think, Smuckers?” Bailey asks, tilting her head, ears perked in anticipation.

I wag in response, the heft of my approval sending crumbs to the four winds. We dine like kings and queens, with our bellyful of goodness and paws dancing under the table, impatient for what lies ahead.

Day Five

What’s Christmas without song, without the hum of a chorus drifting into every nook of Spencerville? Our voices rise in a cacophony of barks, howls, and the odd, surprisingly tuneful, yip. ‘Jingle Bells’ never sounded quite like this. No melody line, no harmony, just the full-bodied joy of dogs who believe every note sung is a masterpiece.

A cat strays onto Shepherd Skyline, pauses as we croon, and I can’t help but stare. Annoyance nibbles at me—unerodable by even the festive air. But the moment’s fleeting; we have carols to bark, and the sting of my dislike is lost in a flurry of ‘fa-la-las’.

Day Six

Halfway through our Christmas countdown, and we’ve got a plan stitched with more ambition than a Great Dane in a dog bed too small. Santa Paws Parade. I’m donning the red hat, the sleigh crafted from pet beds and chew toys—a spectacle of sight and sound.

We parade past Canine Couture Clothing, where the latest winter fashion winks from the windows. Each fluffy participant decked to the nines in holiday wear that makes the word ‘dapper’ sound downright insufficient.

Day Seven

Quiet. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that an overload of joy should be followed by a day of rest. Spencerville nestles under a blanket of calm. I meander to Spencer Park, bask in the slant of sunlight that manages to tiptoe through the clouds.

Families of squirrels dash about, a show for my sole entertainment—as I recall the laughter of kids, the echo of games played and memories made, my kindred tugging at my heartstrings.

Day Eight

Back to business. A surprise visit to Pet Partners Pet Supplies it is, where the wagons are lined up like chariots of amusement—each filled with delicacies and toys for the less fortunate pups. Generosity, you see, is our currency here.

“Our way,” Pierre quips, “of playing Santa’s helper.”

Day Nine

Oh, the tales that old friends share! I catch up with my siblings—reminiscing over shared mischief, the wild chase of days gone by. The bond unbreakable, like the warm glow of streetlights that guides the wayward traveler home.

Day Ten

Adventure calls! A scavenger hunt, Spencerville style—each clue hidden better than bones in the backyard. We find treasures aplenty, from chew toys to old boots, a fetching grand prize.

Day Eleven

We transform Bulldog Bay into a winter wonderland that whispers of the North. Ice sculptures—a lab, a poodle, a beagle—stand guard, our frozen counterparts ready to spring to life at a moment’s notice.

Day Twelve

And here we are, Christmas Eve. The crescendo to our festivities. We plot through the day, excitement mounting like a soufflé in an oven too hot. Gathered around the tree in Shepherd Skyline, we hum a carol under the twinkling lights, a confession to the night that though we miss the touch of those we hold dear, here, we wait together—united in anticipation and a promise of the morrow.

So, as I lie here, curled up in my bed, the twinkle of Christmas magic alive in my heart, the silhouette of Santa’s sleigh crossing the moon from my window, I bid you goodnight and happy dreams. There’s much to look forward to, for tomorrow, my friends, is Christmas.

The End.