Hey Mom,

Just saved Spencerville from acorn-archy with my Chihuahua charm! Convinced a squirrel to trade his hoard for nonexistent cherry pits. Another day, another adventure for Princess Rose Marie! Talk about a tail-wagging tale, huh?

🐾😎💅

Rosie

Ever wake up and just know it’s gonna be a paw-some day? Of course, you don’t, you’re not me—Rosie the charismatic Chihuahua of Spencerville. I’ve got more sass in my tiny tail than most dogs have in their whole fluffy bodies. Did I tell you about that one time I outsmarted a clever squirrel at Northern Choco Chihuahua Castle? No? Buckle up, Buddy, this one’s a doozy.

So there I was, sprawled across the most luxurious blanket known to canine-kind at Spa for Paws, post-pedicure—yeah, we get those here in doggy heaven, stay with me—when Cocoa, my ever-loyal but slightly clueless sibling, bounds up.

“Rosie! You won’t believe it. There’s a wild rumpus at the Fawn Cream Maltese Meadow!”

I rolled my eyes. A “wild rumpus”? What does that even mean? But something in Cocoa’s eyes tells me I don’t want to miss this. I bid adieu to my bliss, the sunbathing would have to wait.

Galloping through Spencerville is quite the experience. From the cotton candy clouds down to the tippy-tops of the endlessly green grass, it’s like living in a painting that got bored and decided to spring to life. I can’t complain. Beats the hassles of the raucous city—that endless bark of car horns and the hustle that bustles far too much for this girl.

The Meadow was in chaos. Dogs of every shape and size were scampering about, some kind of assembly around the illustrious Summit, where this small, self-appointed king of a squirrel was hoarding acorns. In the land of plenty, imagine that—a hoarder!

Clearly, this called for the wit and heroics of yours truly. With my size and unmatched intellect (and modesty, yap, yap), I meandered through the sea of legs to the heart of the drama.

Whispers follow me like I’ve got treats in my pockets (which, by the way, I often do—clever design in this after-world; we keep treats in our fur, don’t ask how). They knew Rosie had arrived to handle the debacle.

“Moxie, my feline friend with all the sass, what’s the lowdown?” I asked the tortoise-colored cat lounging in the shade, her green eyes glinting with mischief.

“That nutty monarch thinks these acorns are the be-all, end-all. How naïve!” Moxie purrs. Classic Moxie, all aloof yet entirely on paw-point.

Time to work my magic on Mr. Nutty. I sashay up, my eyes locked on his beady little squirrel peepers. He’s got moxie too, I’ll give him that. But not enough.

“Mr. Squirrel, darling! What a fabulous collection you’ve amassed here. But you’ve got to know, acorns are so last season. The new thing is…” I paused, dramatic like I’ve seen humans do on their TV screens, “cherry pits!”

His whiskers twitch. I’ve got him.

“Cherry pits?”

“The pits! I heard Tail Waggers is doing a buy-one-get-one—tree for a tree—today only. Just imagine, your very own cherry orchard!”

Let’s just say the exodus of the squirrel was tantamount to the greatest magic trick Spencerville has seen this eon. Acorns forgotten, his tail a flickering banner of gullibility, leaving behind a trail of whispers about that sly Rosie and her legendary coup.

And so peace returned to the Meadow, my little misadventure secured my place as the day’s topic at Waggle n’ Wok over some delicious spaghetti. I tell you, those flavors are enough to make you forget about that whole rain deal—what was that about, anyway?

In Spencerville, I’m more than just a petite pup with a penchant for creature comforts. I’m Rosie—the protector, the friendly face, the snuggler supreme, and, apparently, quite the squirrel charmer. And they say cats have nine lives… if only they knew the after-world adventures of a certain tan Chihuahua with a knack for mischief.

The End.