Hey Mom,

Guess who’s the four-legged heroine of Spencerville now?😎 Streets here are wilder than a squirrel’s birthday party but this feisty Shitzu-Schnauz is keeping spirits high, one bagel heist at a time. Jasper’s my drooly sidekick—we’re sniffing out shenanigans and dodging zombie-cats, all while waiting for our hoomans. Send treats and belly rubs! 🐾

Licks n’ Wags,
Cloe 🐶✨

Well, it’s not every day that one finds themselves in a post-apocalyptic Spencerville, navigating the once-pristine streets that are now as unpredictable as a cat at a dog show. But here I am, Cloe, the remarkably charming and intuitive Multi Shitzu Schnauzer, paw-deep in an adventure that could ruffle the fur of the most stoic Great Dane.

It was a morning like any other, if you discounted the fact that the sky had adopted a peculiar hue of green, and the tennis balls didn’t bounce back as they used to. I awoke on a particularly comfortable pile of what once were the fanciest doggy cushions from The Canine Cafe. My sleep had been a sound one, despite the groaning creatures I could only assume were less fortunate pets who’d found a peculiar change in their dietary preferences.

I stretched, the way one does when you’ve slept on a pile of cushions that the world no longer manufactures, and trotted out to see what Spencerville had to offer. The air smelled of yesterday’s Pupperoni Pizza, mingled with a rather intrusive whiff of impending doom.

A common misconception among humans – bless their cotton socks – is that we, the canine residents of this gentle town, spend our days chasing our tails. Since the world turned upside down, however, we’ve had to be a bit more resourceful, finding new and ingenious ways to fill our days and keep the less-savory residents from gnawing at our heels.

I made my way to Retriever River, hoping to catch a moment of solace and a pawful of sweet drinking water. River was an odd name, considering it now resembled more of a creek; but then, Retriever Creek didn’t have quite the same ring to it.

I encountered Jasper, the Old English Sheepdog, an excellent conversationalist, though his sentences often had more drool than words. “Morning, Cloe,” he barked, his wagging tail creating a small breeze that was quite refreshing.

“Good day, Jasper,” I replied. “Care to join me for a walk to The Doggy Bagel Deli? I fancy a bagel, albeit one that doesn’t taste like the apocalypse.”

He barked in agreement, and we set off together, avoiding the occasional zombie-cat that had taken a rather concerning interest in our wellbeing.

The Deli was, of course, closed. The end of civilization had no respect for pastry hours, but luckily, I had procured the keys in earlier, more vivacious times. Jasper and I tucked into what was left of the Everything Bagels, which ironically contained just a few things now.

We chatted about the good old days when our human pet parents would shower us with love and treats, and we both agreed, solemnly, that our human-like existence here in Spencerville was not bad; they’d made sure we had all the creature comforts. We knew they’d join us again, once the order of the world restored itself and they found their way to our utopia.

After satiating our hunger, we troted through town, narrowly avoiding a frenzied Feline of Unusual Size (FUZ), and arrived at the sandy shores of Brown Boxer Beach. The water lapped at the shore hesitantly, as if unsure whether the apocalypse entitled it to continue behaving as water should.

However, I had no intention of testing the theory, considering my life-long aversion to swimming. The beach was still a sanctuary, a place where one could dig and dig, only to find more sand. Jasper dug alongside me, unearthing what I hoped wasn’t a relic from the FUZs.

The sun began to set – a curious orange against the green sky – and we headed back towards town, where the glowing eyes of Spencerville’s nocturnal creatures began to make an appearance. Not the terrifying sort, mind you, just pets with exceptional night vision.

Before settling down for the night, I made my customary trip to The Dapper Dog Salon – now repurposed as a cozy safehouse. I settled into my favorite armchair, Jasper at my paws, as we watched through the window, believing – no, knowing – that all would be well in time.

As I closed my eyes, I could hear the soft purring of civilization trying to kick-start itself, further lulled by the gentle snores of Jasper. In Spencerville, even in times that test the mettle of our playfulness, we carry on – for we are the walking pets, and tomorrow was another day for adventure.

The End.

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