Hey, it’s Sammie! 🐾 Just had to share – I’m basically the chosen pup, leading the pack in a midsummer’s frosty fairytale here in Spencerville! 🌞❄️ I made friends with a living snowdog named Frosty. We’ve been having epic adventures, learning about the warmth of friendship that outshines even the summer sun. It’s bittersweet, but Frosty taught us that some friendships, like ours, defy even the seasons. Catch you later for more tails from the Meadow! 🐕💨✨

– Red Tuft

Listen to the story here

I always had a vivid memory of my previous life, little fragments that would dance like snowflakes in my mind whenever I’d find myself napping in the shade of the willows in Fawn Cream Maltese Meadow. But today wasn’t for reminiscing; today, Spencerville hummed with a different kind of magic. I heard the whisperings of a rare frost gathering over by Red Beagle Beach, a frost in the heart of summer, they said.

Curiosity isn’t just for cats, you know. So I trotted down, my little paws making soft impressions on the path, the sea breeze toying with my red tufts. The beach was always a place of laughter and barking, with the tang of salt and the sound of waves. But it was hushed now, with a circle of my fellow Spencerville denizens around something… or someone.

It was a sculpture, a snowdog, crafted with a care that spoke silently of bonds yet to form. As I approached, a bubble of excitement ran through the crowd, a shared suspense that thickened the salty air. I don’t recall who nudged me forward—maybe it was that mischievous lab from Pupsicle Palace—but nudge me they did, right toward the frosted figure.

As my nose met the chilly surface, the murmurs hushed quicker than the softest whisper. Then, a shiver (and no, not from the cold). The sculpture, the snowdog, it began to move. Its eyes, stones polished by a thousand tides, warmed with life and mischief. Snowflakes stirred, a winter wonderland sparking to life in the summer’s clasp.

“I am Frosty,” it spoke, its voice like a fresh morning gale.

I would have jumped back, but something about its eyes held me steady, and the adventure’s irresistible allure curled around my heart like the ribbon on a gift. A gift of friendship, a gift of joy, and I was eager to unwrap it.

“We have much to see, little embers,” Frosty said, a term of endearment I could only assume was for me and my fiery tufts. I was chosen, chosen to lead my fellow canine spirits on a summer sleigh through winter’s veil.

Each day, a grand escapade awaited. We skated over frozen patches where the sea kissed the sand, turned Fetch-N-Bites into a seasonal feast with bark-worthy frozen treats, and shared frosty tales under the sun’s gaze which, for reasons only the snowdog knew, couldn’t melt our newfound crystalline playground.

It wasn’t all tail wags and ice capades, though. Frosty, with a wisdom only a creature of winter can muster, reminded us of the warmth we carried within, the same warmth that would one day reunite us with those we missed dearly.

On and on it went, our episodic journey of sleds without reins and games of tag where we’d leave no prints. And through each frosty frolic, I found myself teaching these good dogs of Spencerville about the joy we dogs know best—the joy of the moment, the joy of the shared glance, the shared panting from laughter and running.

As suddenly as it all began, it came to a close. One morning, as the hues of dawn stretched lazily over East Bulldog Bay, Frosty gathered us once more.

“My time here is coming to an end,” the snowdog announced, but there wasn’t a whine or whimper among us. We’d learned, you see, of the fleeting nature of the best things. We savored them, like a good chew, or a nap in the glow of the evening sun.

I stood close, feeling the chill of my friend’s icy fur for the last time, knowing the melt was coming.

Frosty leaned in, as if to share a secret. “Remember,” it whispered, “the warmth of friendship never fades, even when the frost does.”

And with a smile that would remain etched in my heart like the forever tracks on Red Beagle Beach, Frosty the Snowdog became just a dog of snow once more. It was joyous, it was sad, it felt just like life, only it was here, in Spencerville, where each of us waited, warmed by the memories, frosted with the promise of reunion.

Yes, my days are now filled with sun and the usual Spencerville bustle. But every so often, I’ll find a patch of cool grass under my paws, and I’ll smile, able to carry the joy of Frosty and the winter wonders within me, until my days are done, and the warm embrace of those I’ve missed envelops me once more.

The End.