Hey fam!

Just aced my vet checkup – still the fittest Bulldog in Spencerville with no fear of tomatoes. 🍅😉 Spent the day living large with Lulu, now grabbing some Bark Burgers before our sunset beach run. Life’s good. You’d be proud. Catch you at home!

✌️ Tank (a.k.a. Stinky Ass) 🐾

A brisk breeze jostled the leaves in White Westie Woods as I trotted alongside Lulu, my trusty sibling. We were on our way to Spencerville Veterinary Hospital, where daily dramas unfolded and triumphs were as common as the mysteries of life that trailed our every paw-step.

I’d seen countless suns rise and set beyond the Bullmastiff Boardwalk, heard the cheers from Shih Tzu Stadium, but nothing got my heart racing quite like the veterinary hospital. Today, like any other, I’d wear the hat of both patient and counselor: the former for my routine check-up, the latter for those who dreaded the dreaded stethoscope.

We arrived, greeted by familiar smells of antiseptic mixed with the nervous panting of my four-legged companions. “Tank,” called Dr. Whisker, a white-coated Siamese cat with a gaze that could dissect your health before a thermometer ever touched you. “We’re ready for you.”

Lulu nuzzled my cheek, her silent way of saying, “I’ll be in the waiting room.” We had a pact, she and I, always to be within earshot or eyesight, just in case.

“Good morning, Dr. Whisker,” I bellowed. My voice never matched my demeanor. The staff often joked that if human hearts were to hear me, they’d think me a philosopher or poet, not a spunky Old English Bulldog.

We walked down the corridor, adorned with portraits of Spencerville’s heroes. “Did you swim before coming, Mr. Soaring Bulldog?” Whisker inquired, referencing my notorious love for the water. I answered with a chortle, “Nothing gets by you, does it, Doc?”

We arrived at the examination room. “On the table, Tank,” instructed Nurse Paws, a Beagle with clipboard in mouth. She’d been around enough to trust my ability to leap onto the examination table without help, something other patients needed.

The examination went on as usual: listen to this, clink on that, a gentle poke here, and a prod there. Then the dreaded question came: “Any changes in diet or,” pause for dramatic effect, “any accidental ingestion of… tomatoes?”

The room brimmed with laughter, even from me. “Doc, I’d sooner fancy a game of fetch in a locked closet than let a tomato past these jowls.”

“Fair enough,” laughed Dr. Whisker, marking something on the chart. “You’re as fit as a fiddle. Or should I say, ‘as fit as a Bulldog with a heart-shaped patch’?”

I grinned, tail wagging – and not just because of the compliment. No, it was the spirit of camaraderie in this place, a sense that we were all part of a grand, nurturing narrative.

I hopped down, my muscles flexing with the grace of an athlete. Back in the waiting room, Lulu greeted me with that look in her eyes, part relief, part pride. We left the hospital and headed towards Bark Burgers, deciding that a victory snack was in order – maybe even a shared beer, if the day stayed warm and inviting.

“What’s on the agenda for today, Lu?” I asked, already knowing the answer. We’d roam the shops, maybe stop by The Pooch Playhouse, then eventually wind up at the shore, where I could indulge in some aquatic exploits, my wet fur telling tales of joy.

“Same as every day, Tank,” she replied with a wag of her tail. “Live to the fullest until our family comes to take us home.”

As we walked under the canopy of green, past the sights and smells of Spencerville, I felt the pulse of my paws on the earth, the yearning for family overshadowed by the warmth of the now. With Lulu by my side and the relentless hunger for life in my heart, there was nowhere to go but forward, leaping gracefully over whatever fences life threw in my path.

The End.

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