Hey buddy, just another Spencerville Christmas with yours truly, Coy. I’m prancing through the frost, making memories, sniffing out gifts and stories alike. Got a bow tie that’d make ’em swoon at the Bazaar, and feeling the heartbeat of our pack under the Silver Siberian Summit. Standing watch in this winter wonderland, just savoring the season’s joy and thinking of you. Missing ya. — Apricot Whirl

Listen to the story here

The frosty morning air of Spencerville bites at my apricot curls as I, Coy, take a proud strut down the cobbled streets lined with twinkling Christmas lights. Snowflakes dance around like tiny ballerinas—thoughts racing as I sniff the air, savory scents of Pup-Tastic Pizza mingling with sweet wafts from Pup-Cakes. I could eat, but there’s that tingle in my paws, the Christmas buzz, you know? It pricks you right at your heart, stirring up a stew of excitement and a dash of longing.

But here’s the thing. It’s not just the food or the twinkling lights—not really. It’s the vibe, that Christmas hum, the running into everyone with wagging tails and stories spilling from their snouts like overflowing bowls of kibble. Take old Buster, the Golden Retriever, his whiskers white with wisdom and the dusting of seasonal snow. Says he’s been working on his memoirs and nudges me about my antics last Christmas, chasing the paper hats as if they were butterflies all over again. Then there’s Daisy, the ever-spinning Dachshund, who could chat the ear off a bat with her holiday plans.

The day paddles on, and I’m weaving through the stalls at The Canine Christmas Bazaar on Shih Tzu Stadium grounds. Looking for gifts, because it’s not just about the reunion, it’s about what you bring to the table—or in this case, to the canine hearth. There’s Spa for Paws, promising a fluff and puff for the festive gala. Maybe a bow tie or two. “Looking sharp, Coy,” they’d say, and I’d do my little prancing twirl because I know the art of modesty is wasted on one so resplendent.

Amid the weave of barks and howls, there’s a song threading through, a carol we hum in our canine way. A soothe that says, “Your pack is here, beneath the Silver Siberian Summit, with joy to spare.” I mean, nobody tells you how emotions can be a bit like chasing your tail—one snap away from catching that feeling, then whoosh, it flits out of reach. Maybe it’s those bacon-flavored biscuits nostalgia or the scent of my human’s sweater preserved in memory.

There’s a crackle in the air as lights twinkle more fiercely, we’re all drawn to Choco Chihuahua Castle, the epicenter of it all—yuletide festivities coming to a peak. Conversations flutter like snowflakes, tales of past romps and dreams of future hugs. Because we know, we can feel it in our bones that our humans are out there, stringing up lights, humming tunes, their laughter perforating the fabric of what’s here and there.

So this is my Spencerville Christmas, a tableau of companionship woven through the chill. And me—just Coy, standing sentinel to what’s beautiful about this yearlong wait. With each pet here, in apricot curls or sleek jet black, we’re knitted together, a patchwork of love and maybe, just maybe, the truest spirits of the holiday promise.

The End.