Yo, it’s Kooch! 🐾 Just rocked the Corgi Castle stage as the last-min sub for Dash in The Mighty Howlers. 🎤 Went from being Spencerville’s solo swim champ to the band’s lead barkist! 🎶 Overcame a case of stage fright & found my groove with the gang. Turns out, jamming with friends is as sweet as a sunny swim at Boxer Beach. Who knew? Catch ya on the flip side. 🌅🐕 #SquadHarmonies #MastiffMelodies 🎵🦴 – Kooch

The sun was already casting its golden hues over Boxer Beach when I awoke that morning in Spencerville. The place was a paradise for us – a sanctuary where we run free and easy, waiting for that one day to see our human companions again. But we’re okay, really – Spencerville takes care of its own.

You might expect a Brindle Mastiff like me to scare folks with my towering physique, but I carry my muscular frame with a gentle dignity. The patches of my brindle coat shine under the Spencerville sun like faded treasures of a long-lost pirate, and I’ve got eyes that seem to understand more than a soul could speak.

I’m Kooch, by the way. And this is my story.

My caretaker, a sprightly Golden Retriever named Benny, nudged me gently. “Big day, Kooch,” he barked, his tail swishing like the pendulum of a clock that told only happy times.

Today was it – the day of the Pet School Musical at Corgi Castle. I was stepping out of my usual swim to dry land, literally. The gang and I had formed a band and I, Kooch the Independent, Kooch the Protective, was to lead with deep, soulful barks that only a Mastiff could muster.

Swimming was my life’s joy; my sturdy floating rope toy was already missing me. But who could say no to the heart-thumping thrill of rhythm and rhyme? Not this Mastiff. And certainly not with a crowd eager for a tail-wagging good show.

We were aptly named “The Mighty Howlers,” and Sissy, my sister, was our drummer. She could tap out beats like raindrops in a storm – fiercely and with abandon. She and I always had a peculiar way of understanding one another, above and beyond our wordless bond. Together, we were formidable.

But today, the band’s lead vocalist, a dashing Dalmatian named Dash, had taken quite ill. They say he partook in some disagreeable kibble at Bow Wow Bistro. Poor fella – his spots seemed even more disheveled than usual.

With Dash down, it was up to me to lead our choir. I never fancied myself much of a singer, but the excitement in Sissy’s eyes, and the trust in Benny’s, buoyed my confidence.

“Let’s rock Spencerville,” I barked, the growl in my tone hiding my stage fright.

I ambled onto the wooden stage, set amidst the towering turrets of Corgi Castle. The crowd was a sea of ears – pricked, floppy, pointy, all twitching with anticipation. My friends in the band stood proudly behind their instruments; Sissy with her drums, a Pomeranian on keyboard fluffier than the clouds, and a Greyhound with a guitar strapped over his sleek torso.

I cleared my throat dramatically, flashed the crowd my best doggie grin, and let out the most melodic barks and woofs of my life. It was no narrow stream or sunny lake, but on that stage, I was swimming – the music a tide that I rode.

We performed with the kind of joy that can only be found in Spencerville. Our songs spoke of love, waiting, unity, and the scent of freedom.

After the howling applausive barks and standing ovation on two legs, a tired yet content feeling settled in me. Maybe I had been protective of my independence, but today I learned that sometimes, leaning on others made for the sweetest melody. I realized that loneliness, much like bad kibble, was a choice in Spencerville.

We each have our own Spencerville sun to bask in. And as the day came to a close, I knew that whenever that sun slips into the horizon, our hearts keep a warm ember of hope, as we wag on through eternity’s embrace, waiting, together.

The End.