Hey Mom,

Today I, your Bruty Brut, took on aliens thinking we were humans and ended up arranging a cultural swap in Spencerville – belly rubs for alien fetch tech. No probes, I promise. Just added another wild tale to my repertoire!

Tail wags and face licks,
Brutus 🐾✨

In the hairy underbelly of Spencerville, things were amiss — or rather, amutt. You see, on a day quite extraordinary, a day that dawned with all the pomp and circumstance of a king returning to his castle, we faced the unforeseen. The denizens of my beloved burg, myself included — Brutus, a small but non-negotiable presence — awoke to a tremendous hullabaloo echoing from Silver Siberian Summit.

It wasn’t the usual revelry of snowball chases or the collective whooping during freeze-tag (which, in fairness, some of us took too literally) but the clamor of metal, the whirring of gears and the most terrible lights this side of a cat’s glowing eyes in a midnight bin-raiding escapade.

An alien invasion, I thought. It was a day I’d tacitly imagined between philosophical chews on my treasured squeaky hedgehog, though never truly anticipated. Aliens, of all things! Not that I’m one to judge the universe’s tapestry of creation. Some of my best friends have the oddest number of paws.

They descended with grandeur, extraterrestrial tourists mistaking our canine utopia for a Timeshare Presentation, no less. We gathered, a motley crew of collective bewilderment — Jasper’s boisterous bark subdued to a quizzical huff, Ellie’s tail a semaphore of anxious anticipation.

One of the larger craft, a frisbee gone authoritarian, landed on the pristine sands of Red Beagle Beach. It squatted there, portentous and shiny like a well-polished bone.

I took a stand at the forefront, naturally. Mom always said my stentorian yap could drown out a legion of mail carriers, and now was the time to test the theory.

As the hatch whizzed open with less sneeze and more breeze, a figure emerged. It was tall, too many limbs for any self-respecting earthling and eyes… by the Great Kibble King, those eyes! They were like neon signs at Chow Hound Café, only more hypnotic and decidedly less inviting.

It communicated, in tones that suggested a blender duet with a vacuum cleaner, “We come in peace, small bipedal resembling residents.”

Jasper whispered, “Blimey, they think we’re the humans.”

Ellie quivered, “Well, we do walk on two legs sometimes.”

It took every ounce of my Chihuahua resolve to remain civil. “Distinguished guest,” I retorted, my voice steady as a stall-fed poodle, “You have the pleasure of addressing the residents of Spencerville. And while your visit is as unexpected as a bathtub without warning, you’ll find we’re rather affable souls.”

The visitor, bemused or perhaps just confused, inclined its head (or was it an arm?). “We seek communion. Solutions to, how you say, cohabit?”

The nerve! Here we were, expecting a mind-numbing takeover, and instead, we got an extraterrestrial tenant inquiry. The irony tasted worse than Brussels sprouts.

“We relish a good chinwag,” I admitted. “And Spencerville boasts superb establishments like Kibble Cuisine and the fine boutiques at The Groom Room. But I’m afraid you’ll have to rent your own space.”

Negotiations proceeded, their ship hovering like a moth convinced the moon’s in a backyard. We agreed to a cultural exchange — the aliens could learn the fine art of belly rub maximization, and in turn, would provide intergalactic fetch capabilities. Oh, and a strict ‘no-probing’ agreement; we pets have our dignity, after all.

As the sun dipped below Silver Siberian Summit, painting the sky a hue of rich gravy, we watched these strange guests blend into our ebb and flow, adapting with an awkwardness not indifferent to a cat at a dog party.

I lay by the fire pit at Ruff-n-Ready, a sigh escaping me. Never will there be a day as peculiar, I thought. And as the stars twinkled their timeless gossip, I mused that perhaps this unexpected chapter, this tale of paws and constellations, would bring that much more zest to the Spencerville legend — until that day we all long for, a reunion with our beloved humans.

The End.