Hey Mom,

Just a typical day in Spencerville for me, Pearl. Caught a rogue milk bone from the sky, shared the love with my furry pals, and waxed philosophical at the dog park. Even without Sophie here, I’m rockin’ the laid-back captain vibe, awaiting our next adventure. Life’s good. Tail wags and doggy kisses,

Pearlie 🐾✨

So it goes in Spencerville, and so it went for me, the day the biscuit tumbled from the sky. Just kidding. It was a regular milk bone—my favorite—but the way it plopped in front of me might as well have been manna from heaven. I, Pearl, the hefty bulldog with the pirate’s eye, remember it well, because that’s how my day began: with the universe, in its infinite jest, dropping a crunchy milk bone at my feet.

This mundane miracle unfolded in the Tan Dalmatian Desert, only it’s not actually a desert, just sandy stretches with artificial sunbeams spilling golden warmth. Perfect for a sprawl, and that was exactly what I was doing when the milk bone dropped out of Nowheresville. I glanced up, half-expecting to see the cosmic baker responsible for this. But no, not even in Spencerville, where every dog has his day, every day, do baked goods float from the ether.

I crunched happily, the sound a comfortable symphony compared to the raucousness I once knew as a city-dwelling pup. With the first touch of daylight across my brindle, I decided a trip down Bullmastiff Boardwalk would be fitting. You see, no one tells you that family isn’t just the two-legged kind. It’s Tuesday with her tortoiseshell coat and Bromo with his red splotches. It’s Lil Dot with more energy than sense. And right then, I felt like sharing my morning biscuit boon with them.

Making my way, paws padding over the boardwalk, savoring the faint salt in the breeze that doesn’t sting like actual ocean air, I found my gang lounging outside Sniff ‘n’ Snack, the aroma of grilled meats wafting with a persistence stronger than my furor over camouflaged pills in my kibble.

“Universe’s lookin’ out for us today,” I barked out in greeting, the words resounding in Spencerville’s unspoken language—every woof perfectly understood. The crew wagged in recognition, well, except for Bromo who only managed an identifiable nod.

“My favorite milk bone just happened to fall for me today,” I continued, the smugness evident even without a smirk—another canine limitation. “Thought the karma pool might overflow to you lot.”

Tuesday, ever the cynic beneath her patchwork fur, chortled, “Fancy that, Pearl, a freebie for you? Must’ve been some snag in the cosmos.”

“Snag or not, I’ve got that easy feeling today,” I retorted, my bulldog brows a pantomime of contentment. “A stroll, a chew, and the company of my choosing—that’s the trifecta of a day well-spent.”

Our walk led us to Happy Hounds Dog Walking, which, in Spencerville, isn’t what it sounds like. It’s a park where humans are walked by an assortment of animals, big and small. Sophie and I, partaking in our own sibling drama, often spectated the rollicking events there. Today, she wasn’t beside me, likely off sunbathing by the Siberian Summit—snow-capped in name, a warm hillside in truth.

As the hours slid by with the ease of a pro kayaker catching the current, I caught the musings of Lil Dot in her quintessential yip-yap. “Isn’t it odd,” she pondered, “that we wait for them? I mean, we have everything we could want, right? But we still… wait.”

Bromo, not one for excessive banter, articulated a thought as rare as his words. “We wait because that’s love, isn’t it? To hope for a ‘hello’ after a ‘goodbye.'”

I couldn’t argue with that. Eventually, the day carried us like leaves on a stream back to the heart of town, back to the crossroads of dogdom where every snout has a story. We have it all here, even the restraint of not scarfing down Pooched Potatoes on impulse.

The sun dipped in respect of the day’s end, tipping its hat like I once did to Sophie after our tug-of-war duels. Tomorrow would come with its own milk bones and mysteries. But today, it was enough to be Pearl, the bulldog, a dog well-loved and loving well, captain of my own calm sea in this bustling metropolis of tails and tales.

And so it goes—for every dog in Spencerville, we live our days in the life, waiting with wagging tails, for the leash click that signals “I’m home.”

The End.