Hey Human,

Just a quick tail-wag to let you in on a secret – turns out I’m the heart and soul of this Christmas tale. After a celestial pup showed me the ropes, I’ve seen the love and laughs I’ve spread in Spencerville. Remember, every slobber and bark of mine is cherished! Off to indulge at Pup-Cakes, because life’s too short! So keep the spirit and the treats abundant!

With wags and woofs,
Tiny

Listen to the story here

It was a Christmas Eve as crisp as a fresh pack of tennis balls in Spencerville, and there I was, Tiny by name but hardly by nature, trotting through the snow-dusted streets with a sense of weariness in my hefty pitbull bones. I’d always been the type of dog to chew on the meaty bones of life with vigor, but that evening the sparkle in my bark was somewhat muffled.

I found myself at Poodle Pond, pawing at the frosty edge, gazing at my rippled reflection. My heart hung heavier than a slobbery chew toy, weighed down by the thought that my daily antics perhaps didn’t amount to much in the grander kennel of existence. Was my paw print on this world just going to melt away like the slush under my paws?

As I pondered, the world around me seemed to hush as if the very twinkling stars were leaning in to listen. Out of the corner of my amber eye, I noticed a shimmering figure skating across Poodle Pond—a guardian angel dog, his coat as shiny as the ornaments on a Christmas tree.

“Oh, what’s got your tail in a twist, Tiny?” he asked, his voice as smooth as a well-groomed poodle.

Not one to normally consort with celestial beings, as I preferred the company of Whiskers and Flutter, I was inclined to dismiss him. But something, maybe the magic in the holiday air, nudged me to confide.

“I just wonder,” I began, my breath misting in the air like my thoughts, “if I’ve ever really been a good girl. Did my human family truly cherish my slobbery kisses and thunderous barks?”

The guardian angel wagged his tail knowingly. “Follow me,” he said, and off we soared. You see, dear reader, I am no ordinary Pitbull—I was flying now, in the adventures of a Christmas Eve I wasn’t about to forget.

We floated down to observe my human family gathering for the holidays. It was as if I were there, but without the inevitable scolding for slobbering on the hors d’oeuvres.

“Look there, Tiny,” the angel nudged, pointing his ethereal paw towards the mantle where my framed photo sat nestled between the stockings. “That smile on their faces when they reminisce about you? That’s affection thicker than the peanut butter you found impossible to lick off the roof of your mouth.”

The scene shifted like the channels on a TV, and below us Spencerville bustled. At Pup-Peroni, my dear chums Whiskers and Flutter shared a Christmas feast, chattering about that time I chased a rogue turkey through Collie Canyon with the finesse of a bulldozer at a flower show.

“You’ve never been just a dog, you know,” my angel guide barked playfully, as we witnessed a flashback of me pulling a sprightly pup from the depths of a snowdrift with all the determination of a tug-of-war champion. “You’ve spread joy, lent a helping paw, and proven that even the toughest of dogs has a heart of pure gold.”

Our night’s journey stirred memories of countless good deeds, belly laughs, and warmth shared. There I was, Tiny the furry guardian of my human’s hearts, the muscle-bound belle of the ball in every tail-wagging tale.

As swiftly as we’d departed, I found myself back at Poodle Pond, the guardian angel licking his snout as if savoring the last lick of a perfect ice cream cone.

“So, Tiny, old friend,” he said before slipping away into the crisp night, “remember that the size of your presence here is anything but small.”

A snowy peace settled within me as the first light of Christmas morning began to tease the horizon. In that moment, I understood that Spencerville wasn’t just a place to rest one’s paws after a life well-lived; it was a testament to all the lives I’ve touched, fur-covered or otherwise.

“Now, then,” I thought, with a wily grin and a heart light as a feather, “perhaps it’s time to pay Pup-Cakes a visit. Life’s too short not to indulge in a gooey cinnamon roll, even when you’re an illustrious angel-influenced spirit.”

And with a wag of my tail, I marched off into the welcoming glow of Christmas, resolved to cherish every moment, every memory, like a bone buried for safekeeping.

The End.