Hey Mom and Dad,

Just a quick tail-wag from your Coy Boy to say this Christmas I turned Spencerville into my own winter wag-derland! I’ve been a caroling maestro, a festive fashion icon, a munching marvel, and ended as a snow-sculpting virtuoso. Spent the season spreading cheer on four paws, making each moment count double for my one good eye. Missing you and sending you all my love and barks!

Licks and licks,
Coy Boy 🐾🎄✨

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So, it’s me, Coy. I want to tell you about this one special Christmas in Spencerville where I lived this whacky tale that stretched twelve days and turned into something of a legend, a furball-stuffed Yuletide saga that even those Bulldog Bay lads would pause their splashing to hear.

Day one started with me waking up to the smell of chestnuts roasting somewhere in the distance and the familiar comfort of my lamb chop toy resting by my paw. A single descriptive sniff told me, the festive jamboree had jet-started without me.

On day two, I swaggered into Bark and Bites, my curly tail writing riddles in the air. They were offering holiday-special pupcakes. One nibble and I found my paws doing a tap dance on the checkered floor. “Coy,” they said, “you’re really grooving there.” And I was.

Day three rolled in, and that’s when things got fur-razy. At Chow Down Chow Chow, I found a Dachshund downing dumplings at record speed. He invited me to join; a feast ensued. We ate like kings, or like dogs who had just discovered thumbs and could open the fridge.

The fourth day, Paws-A-Latte unveiled the ‘Puptastic Peppermint Mocha’. I had mine to-go, shaking the whipped cream from my whiskers as I wandered through Maltese Meadow, sipping my hot concoction and leaving a trail of joyous barks that echoed.

On the fifth day, Maverick the beagle gifted me an antler headband. A bit too festive for my taste, but when in Spencerville – or so the saying goes. I pranced around Fawn Cream Field, the envy of every Spaniel and Shepherd.

Sixth day shenanigans kicked off at The Pawfect Training Center. The lesson was ‘How to Sing Carols’. My forte? Barking in B flat. The others joined in and thus, a canine chorus was born, jingling all the way into the snowy evening.

Lucky number seven was all about reflections. Beside South Poodle Pond, I pondered upon my one-eye situation – a pirate in another life, perhaps? Either way, my single orb shone with more love than two could ever muster. That was enough.

Day eight had me at Pawsitively Purrfect Pet Store, where I sniffed out the perfect squeaky gift for each bark-pal. Night fell, and dreams of swimming in a sea of treats carried me to…

…Day nine, which began with an impromptu snow-sculpture contest. My creation? A statue of myself – because why not? Acclaim was unanimous. “Coy,” they said, “you’re a regular Michelangelo.”

The tenth day found me crafting paw-print Christmas cards. Each one was a small square testament to my existence, destined to spread holiday cheer across this town of tail-waggers and treat-lovers.

Eleven doggos dancing – that’s how day eleven unfolded. A spontaneous waltz broke out on the main street, and yours truly led the way, spinning with such elation only a Shih-tzu Poo could exude.

Finally, day twelve arrived. The sun dipped low and the stars twinkled like the twinkle in my human mom’s eyes. I gathered with my furry friends, all snug and warm, sharing stories of the days we had reveled in.

With every woof and wag, we waited for the clock to chime its midnight magic. And on that note, my dear reader, remember, Spencerville isn’t just a place; it’s a feeling, a promise of paws pressing into soft earth, noses lifted to an eternal sky. It’s where dogs like me, with lamb chop toys and hearts too big for our furry chests, find our endless Christmas. And who knows, maybe one day you’ll stumble upon a scruffy, apricot chap with one good eye and zest that could fill a dozen dog parks.

That’s me, Coy. And this – well, this is how I bark the holidays into life, one tail wag at a time.

The End.

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