Hey family, just a quick pupdate from your very own rhythm-master, Larkinator! 🥁 I’ve become Spencerville’s Little Drummer Pup, sharing joy without a single woof—just the thump of my drum. Can you believe it? From snuggly solitude to the town’s beat-keeping bulldog. My tail’s wagging to a new tune, and even Aunt Jenny would be proud. Cheer’s in the air, so let’s march to the beat of love, life, and laughter. Thump on! 🐾

Woofs and wags,
Larkinator 🎶

Listen to the story here

You wouldn’t think a chap like me, a bulldog with a brindle coat and a penchant for solidarity, would have much to do with rhythm. I should be the quiet sort, cuddling up in a blanket, not a soul to bother around. But here in Spencerville—oh, you know, that blessed place sprinkled with doggy dreams and kitty wishes—things are a tad bit different, aren’t they?

I’m Larkin. Remember me? My tale’s a humble one, but it beats with a drum. Why a drum, you wonder? Well, given my sturdy disposition, most wouldn’t reckon a drum would be my calling. But boys and girls, there’s this magic in simplicity, and in Spencerville, I’ve breathed a new beat into my life.

It all started one winter, crisp and cold, with Southern Golden Retriever River icing up at the banks and Dalmatian Desert just a tad less fiery. Spencerville was thrumming with holiday vibes, lights tangled in every lamppost, and The Fetching Deli spewing smells of roasted turkey that’d make even the angels salivate.

No one suspected I had an inkling for music. But there was this old drum, nothing much to look at. It sat by the Howling Husky Hardware Store, discarded, looking a tad forlorn, and every time I passed by, it seemed to call out to me. So, this one evening, I stopped. I looked around, not a soul in sight, and with idle paw, gave it a little boop.

The sound it made, it wasn’t grand, but it was clean, and it was mine. Now, who would’ve thought that a bulldog could keep a beat? It’s all about the heart, you see. I played that drum, day by day. No fancy flair or flourishes—just simple, heartfelt beats. Thump, thump, thump, echoing my own sturdy heartbeat.

Word got around; it does in towns like these. Larkin, the bulldog, all wrapped up in cheerful scarves, became the Little Drummer Pup of Spencerville. Every eve, at The Cat’s Meow Sushi or Tail Waggers, wherever the crowd was, I’d sit and play. Not for money, not for fame—just for the quiet joy it brought, that glint in the eye, the waggy tail-beat in time with mine.

And Sadie, oh, my confidant, wore her matching outfit with a pride only a schnauzer could muster. “Go on, give ‘em the beat,” she’d bark, our adventures forgotten momentarily in the wake of this newfound calling.

Aunt Jenny, she once said there’s no greater gift than the joy you bring to others, even in the simplest form. There, under the twinkly lights of the Choco Chihuahua Castle and the curious gaze of passersby, I found the truth of her words. Me, Larkin, not one for pomp, yet there I was, spreading cheer one beat at a time.

Some would say it’s quite the sight, a bulldog drummer. And suppose the vacuum cleaner roared, that dreaded enemy of mine, or a piece of lettuce found its way under my nose, I’d simply find my drum and tune out the bothers of this world. After all, isn’t that the spirit of Spencerville? A world crafted of patience and love, where I could wait, brimming with my modest gift of music, until that joyous reunion arrives.

So, this is me, Larkin, not just English Bulldog, custodian of brindle fur and seasonal alopecia spots; not just any dog, but the heart of a rhythm that keeps Spencerville tapping its toes. Let the holiday season come; my drum and I are ready. Thump, thump, thump—bring on the cheer, bring on the love, bring on the symphony of Spencerville.

The End.

Share This Story: