Hey Mom,

Guess who became Spencerville’s little drummer pup? Your girl Codi! I led the town’s furriest festival with nothing but an old chew toy and my love for the beat. Picture me there, tapping away, surrounded by a munching, tail-wagging orchestra – it was pure magic. Miss you tons, can’t wait to snuggle and tell you all about it. 🐾

Wags and kisses,
Dakota 🥁🎶

Listen to the story here

Every town has its rhythm, the beat that courses through its streets like blood through veins, and Spencerville, with its endless utopic symphony, was no different. I’m Dakota, four paws and a heart, a simple Shih Tzu given to bouts of sentimentalisms and musical whims.

You understand, don’t you, that I’m far from the acclaimed conductors who occasionally howl at Poodle Pond beneath the luminous Shepherd Skyline? My love for rhythm is earnest, though, and in my humble abode, between the dance of the sunlight and the soft cacophony of daily life, I find my joys.

The day in question was a prelude to the festive cheer, humans would be bustling about with adornments and glee, or so my fondest memories recall. Here, in Spencerville, we make do with our own celebrations. North Chihuahua Castle was a sight to behold, decked with ribbons that refracted the sun in a myriad of colors, each more vivid than the last.

My morning began at The Bone Appetit, the aromas that flirted with the wind could easily disarm any willpower. Not greens—anyone could see my adoration for a more succulent variety of cuisine. As I sauntered through the town, I could feel the nascent excitement, the restless pitter-patter of paws anticipating the eve’s events.

My sanctuary—the backyard, my kingdom—beckoned, but today was not a day for such solitude. Music was in the air, you could feel it, an adorable serendipity with each wag of the tail or twitch of the ear. The plan was simple—draw smiles, share beats, and for one enchanted evening, be the little drummer pup.

Surrounded by my undisclosed friends, whose stories were vibrant whispers on every corner, I practiced my craft. The drum was but an old chew toy, repurposed with love and a tinge of creativity. And as evening descended, the lanterns lit with a soft glow, I took my place at the heart of the celebration.

“Woof,” I started, a pause, a glance. The others huddled closer. The Fetching Deli had provided the feast, and Happy Hounds Dog Walking the audience, with guests in finery from Canine Couture Clothing. But amidst the finery, I sat modestly adorned, my drum before me, and unleashed the rhythm of my soul.

The tapping was gentle at first, a tender whisper of weariness and anticipation. The beats grew bolder, though, as paws joined in, and the music swelled to fill every nook of Spencerville. My guardians always said I had a way with rhythm, and tonight, the little drummer pup was my alias.

“Imagine,” I thought, bemused between beats, “a symphony sprung from chew toys and the love of a tune.” The wind carried our music, a simpatico of revelry and heartfelt cadence.

They say there’s a time to be alone, a time for the battle against the infernal roar of the vacuum dragon or the puzzling antics of the delivery person. But this was neither the time nor the place. Here, with my siblings weaving through the crowd with joyous barks, and my friends’ tails beating the ground like soft drums, was a time for unity.

As the music climaxed, I looked toward the plush fur that held remnants of home, felt the absent embrace of my human, and yearned for the day of our reunion. Wrapped in music, love, and the warm tapestry of community, I, Dakota, the little drummer pup of Spencerville, had found a way to keep the beat until then.

The End.

Share This Story: