Hey Mom,

In the aftermath of “The Howl,” Spencerville has become my new kingdom, and I’m rocking it as the top dog around here. No laps, but plenty of adventures with a squad that includes even a Siamese cat! Missing your belly rubs, but I’ve found joy in this wild new doggy utopia. Holding onto the hope that someday our human paths will cross again.

Paws and love,
Teddy 🐾💖

In the wake of the great calamity, humans called it “The Howl”; we dogs knew it simply as “The Day the Treats Stopped Falling.” An eerie silence had blanketed the windswept world, leaving only the echoes of lost barks haunting the air. Human society, such as it was, crumbled like a poorly baked dog biscuit, and in its place rose the utopia of Spencerville, sanctuary to the four-legged and the furry.

I, Teddy, a former lap-warmer and squirrel-chaser of some repute, found myself in quite the predicament—being the sole civilized Chihuahua in a place that seemed to have forgotten the meaning of ‘lap.’ With my majestic ears tuned to the frequency of newfound freedom, I trotted through the silver gates of North Chihuahua Castle, my heart swollen with anticipation and my belly a little less so.

You see, Waggle n’ Wok had adapted to the post-apocalyptic taste buds, and despite its propensity for serving canine culinary delights, one menu item offended my palate so thoroughly that I would rather chew on the leg of an old chair. But let’s not dwell on the negative, for the rest of the food tickled my gusto and I, like any Chihuahua worth his kibble, savored with delicate nibbles.

The days were filled with expeditions to the Lower Golden Gate Gardens, where ancient oaks whispered secrets of a bygone era, and the bark of my laughter mingled with the rustling leaves. It was beneath one such grand tree that I’d encounter my beloved mystery toy, the silent witness to my previous life’s joys and japes. It had miraculously survived the transformation and had become a relic, an emblem of the bond between my human and me.

Ah, my human—gone, but never absent from the sanctity of my canine heart, the curling corners of my doggy smile. Forever enshrined in Spencerville’s lore, her memory was a bed of sunbeams warming my fawn coat, comforting as old habits, like chasing one’s tail or the perfect art of doing nothing at all.

As with any pocket-sized sovereign, my social calendar was intriguing and my entourage, a jovial ensemble from Tail Waggers Luncheon Club. Corgis, Goldens, and even the aloof Siamese cat behind The Pooch Playhouse—they all knew me by name, or at least by scent (one never really knows in Spencerville).

Together, we embarked on tales of bravery, navigating the ruins of giant cushions and once-stuffed sofas in Spa for Paws—or what used to be a spa, now serving as headquarters to our daring escapades. You haven’t truly lived a dog’s life until you’ve zoomed through the desolate, echoing hallways once trodden by our pampered forepaws.

Yet, in quiet moments, when the shadows grew long and the chatter hushed, my siblings would sit with me, their presence a reminder of our intertwined destinies. Furred souls bound by more than mere genetics, sharing silent stories against the backdrop of fading daylight.

We knew our humans strove to rebuild their fractured world beyond the borders of Spencerville. And while we romped in a world apart, we carried within us the hope that one day that rebuilding would lead them to our gates once again.

I was Teddy, and this is my Spencerville—a realm dressed in the tattered finery of humanity’s yesteryears, infused with the spirit of dogged perseverance. Squirrel chases and belly rubs may have been our ambition, but we’d become the regal custodians of a love that survived even the gravest of apocalyptic woes.

The End.

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