Hey Mum,

Just an average day in Spencerville, turned into an epic tale! 😎 I, Lil Dot a.k.a Diva, became the hero we didn’t know we needed – thwarted bumbling burglars with my quick wit and left them bamboozled with my mischievous home-alone traps. Now I’m lounging in victory, waiting for some well-deserved belly rubs. Who knew guarding the kennel could be this exhilarating? 🐾💪

Love,
Lil Dot

Listen to the story here

When I first awoke that rather ordinary-looking Spencerville morning, I had no inkling that the day would unfold into anything but a series of delightful naps, interrupted only by the sporadic parade of salacious chicken smells wafting through my nostrils. Little did I know I was about to embark on an adventure worthy of, well, my own legend.

So there I was, Lil Dot—resident philosopher, playgroup moderator, and, unbeknownst to me, soon-to-be hero of our comfortable kennel during the festive season.

The day began much like any other, with a customary sniff around for any updates the local bulletin board of scents would offer. Updates were as expected: Pearl had gotten into the truffles again, Hans adopted a new strut, and someone had the audacity to suggest a new grooming schedule involving less pampering time at The Pampered Pooch Salon. Scandalous!

It was the rumble in my belly—a familiar tune—that hummed me toward my usual brunch at Furrific Fried Chicken, where I would trade fierce looks with any who dared consider my plate as anything but sovereign territory.

But the day took a sudden turn for the peculiar when I sauntered back into the kennel. The silence struck me as odd; the usual cacophony of barks and tail wags was replaced by a somber quiet, weighty as a cat on one’s favorite lounging pillow.

“Hello?” I intoned, my voice dripping with a practiced casualness, though the echo that returned to my ears ruffled the fine hairs of my concern.

The humans had gone out, their return timed undoubtedly with the zenith of the sun—a classic error, given my dislike for high noon duels. It left us, the valiant canine cavalry, in a rather unguarded state.

And then, with all the subtlety of a squirrel discovering a forgotten stash of nuts, something caught my keen ear—a shuffling, a fumbling, at the outskirts of the kennel. Intruders? Oh, the audacity to think they could outwit us during the festive season’s height!

All at once, I saw them, two figures as grotesque as a mismatched pair of socks; they were clearly up to no good. Never mind that they floundered like fish out of water, for even a cornered mouse can surprise a cat on occasion.

With the stoicism of an intrepid captain steering her ship through choppy waves, I marshaled my thoughts. My role was clear—I must guard the home-front, armed with nothing but wit and an indomitable spirit (and perhaps an unsuspecting larger dog, should the need for romping—or rather, a tactical distraction—arise).

I set about my defense with the careful planning of a chess grandmaster. First, a simple ruse using corridors echoing with misleading paw taps—a sound design to confuse the keenest of thieves. Tail wagging, I couldn’t help but allow myself a self-congratulatory snort. With the echo-ambush set, the stage was mine to command.

What followed could only be described as an odyssey of meticulous mischief; the intruders quivering under unanticipated showers of confetti tennis balls, tripping over strategically placed chew toys—a bright pastiche of colors bold as my tactics—and retreating as quickly as their pride from a storm of canine cunning.

As they scampered away, I could hear the festive clink of dog tags like jingle bells in the distance, signaling the return of my two-legged companions and my four-legged coterie. I settled into my spot with a soft huff, ankles crossed, and awaited praise, as any humble heroine would.

Though I carried an air of nonchalance, a spark in my eyes betrayed the fierce delight of a well-strategized day. And as my beloved humans bustled in, brimming with affection and sensory overload, I had but one thought: “In Spencerville, dear friends, it’s not just about the chicken. It’s about the honor, the cunning, and perhaps just a touch of absurdity—that’s the spirit that guards our kennel on any given holiday.”

The End.