Hi Mom and Dad, it’s your Bear Cub! If my afterlife were a book, today would be a thrilling chapter. Woke up, organized a dog army to oust a ghoul! Found my lost pickle toy (yum!). Furrific Fried Chicken tastes better after a victorious battle. Love and woofs, Vincent. 🐾

Listen to the story here

I woke up on an uncommonly bright morning in Spencerville, the divine realm where departed pets lived saintly lives. The sun shone bright above the Newfoundland estate, a place I’d carved out for me and Princess Victoria. Our mansion, snuggled between the Western Fawn Pug Palace and Southern Golden Retriever River.

I remembered my human life, my parents, the strange allergies that plagued my appetite, reduced to fish and biscuits. Here, the allergies don’t exist, and yet, I couldn’t shake off the peculiar longing for my dental bone. Be damned the opulent delicacies of Furrific Fried Chicken and Bark Burgers, or Pupsicle Palace’s famous canine cones; give me dental bone any day!

But today, the stench of fear hung heavily in the air. A horrifying undercurrent threaded through Spencerville’s peace. A rumor about the vanishing toy, pests disappearing, one small innocence at a time.

My pickle toy. With all those treats stashed in it, a souvenir from my earthly realm, vanished. Pure love in plush lost to thin air. The uneasy surrealism can tear out the sanity from a right-minded beast. Supernatural? I ain’t no believer. Or wasn’t, until the horror kidnapped my playtime joy.

The suspect? A terrifying shape that lurked in shadows as the sun kissed Spencerville goodnight, leaving us at the mercy of darkness. A ghoul had taken residence in our heavenly abode.

My blood boiled, a war cry rippling through me. The defiant spirit within barked a call to arms. The terror had dared to step into my peaceful haven, barged into my nonchalant existence.

I strided past Canine Couture Clothing and Fetch! Toys and Treats, the energy of my righteous quest fueling my bravery. Streets echoed with my coming, a call rippling through the town. Comrades of different kind gathered, silent as the grave. Strength in unity.

The final assault came at the break of dawn. Armed with loyalty and the brotherhood, we challenged the ghostly presence. It put up a fight, a terrible, shadowy thing that it was, but the combined force of our anger and determination drove it away, out of Spencerville, back into the inky abyss where it belonged.

Victorious, the town celebrated. Toasts were raised at Bark Burgers, tales of bravery echoed over Pupsicle Palace’s cones. Let’s not forget my sister, Princess Victoria, gallantly fighting by my side, matching my fervor with equal dedication.

Today, I am Vincent, the Newfoundland dog who defeated the horrors of the dark. Spencerville was back to being the paradise where we peacefully wait to reunite with our human parents. As for my pickle toy, it re-appeared mysteriously, a whispering reminder of the battle we fought.

And thus ends this gruesome tale, etched in the annals of Spencerville’s history, a testament to our bravery and love. But remember, here in this corner of forever, we live, we love, we lose… and we fight. Fear doesn’t stand a chance.

The End.