Hey Mom and Dad 🚀👋,

I’m Captain Coy “Coy Boy” of the S.S. Squeaky Lambchop! Just steered us through the Purr Nebula with diplomacy & a well-timed squeaky toy. We reclaimed the fabled Ball of Destiny and skirted around feline space pirates. Miss you both – will wiggle on home after our cosmic game of fetch! 🌟🎾

Stay pawsome,
Coy Boy 🐾🚀

Star date: Doesn’t really matter. Time is a chew toy here in Spencerville, something to be tossed around and pounced upon with the gleeful abandon of a pup in the prime of his ninth life. I am Coy, the one-eyed navigator of the S.S. Squeaky Lambchop, and this is the rather irregular log of our misadventures through the galactic fire hydrants and cosmic mailmen of this universe.

I awoke to the sound of my own enthusiastic barking. It was breakfast time in the Yellow Tan Dalmatian Desert, or at least I imagined it was. The sun was always shining here, so telling time was really a matter of stomach growls and how much you missed your human – whichever felt more pressing.

Commander Fluffytail, a robust Golden Retriever, was already up, poring over schematics of the ship’s latest upgrades: an Infinity Fetch Drive, capable of throwing us into the far reaches of space and then obligingly returning us right back to where we started. Brilliant, of course. What else would you expect from the minds at Paws On The Grill, where the engineers double as chefs and every solution is served with a side of kibble?

Our latest mission was perilous. We were to journey through the Great Vacuum Void to retrieve a lost ball. Not just any ball, this was the Ball of Destiny, one known to elicit frenzied tail-wagging and spellbinding mid-air catches.

I took my position at the helm, feeling as stoic and sage as the statutes guarding the Lower Golden Gate Gardens, though I must confess that the helm of the S.S. Squeaky Lambchop was conveniently void of any stairs. Stairs – what a silly human invention, clearly designed by someone with too many legs or perhaps too many eyes.

The ship hummed, the Infinity Fetch Drive spun into action, and we were off. Time rippled like a dog shaking off after a dip in the lake. Stars blurred past us like the fuzzy edges of a dream, or like the fuzz on my back when I forget my monthly snip and clip at The Dapper Dog Salon.

“I can’t imagine how tiresome it must be,” I mused aloud, “to explore space with two eyes. Double the glare from an unfriendly sun, double the stardust in your vision.”

Commander Fluffytail didn’t respond. Her mouth was agape as a voice boomed over our comm system.

“Attention, travelers of the S.S. Squeaky Lambchop! I am Meowron, purveyor of the feline frontier, and you have encroached upon the Purr Nebula!”

A cat, of course. Our natural foil. Like a chew toy that fights back, it was both irritating and thrilling.

“Navigator Coy,” Fluffytail turned to me, “ready the Bark Blasters, but keep them on a friendly yip. Diplomacy first. We must negotiate for passage.”

I engaged the Bark Blasters to ‘yip’, knowing full well I had just the thing – my Lamby, securely tucked beside me. Its squeak was known to soothe the most savage of feline tempers.

Meowron hissed something about a nap interrupted, but the moment the gentle melody of Lamby’s squeak met the void, the tension dissolved. Cats do love a good nap after all.

Negotiations concluded successfully, with the promise of a sunbeam at the Shih Tzu Stadium to sweeten the deal. We pressed on, the Ball of Destiny almost within our reach.

At last, we found the fabled ball, nested among constellations that sparkled like The Bone Appetit’s top-shelf kibble. With a successful fetch maneuver, the Ball of Destiny was ours once more.

I, Coy, returned to narrate the tale, with all the dramatic flair I reserve for announcing the presence of a postal worker. These voyages in the S.S. Squeaky Lambchop happen in the space between heartbeats, in the wag of a tail—my curled monument to confidence.

These logs serve as my adventures until that cherished day I see my human once again. And until then, I navigate the cosmos in search of that delightful squeak in the dark, forever the one-eyed wonder of Spencerville.

The End.