Hey Mom & Dad,

In the wackiest tail…I mean, tale, in Spencerville, I’ve turned ringmaster in our critter-run world. Humanless high-jinks abound as we paws play at apocalypse. Think ‘Lord of the Fleas’ with more fur and a sniff of mystery. I’ve wrestled vines, sampled the wild smorgasbord, and led twilight howls. Missing you two, but keeping the den warm for your return.
Catch you on the bark side, lickety-split!

Winston aka Schnucki 🐾🦴

Oh, what a fine morning it is in Spencerville, the kind that ignites a wag in any respectable tail. I, Winston, have awakened to the curious blend of normalcy peppered with the peculiar; just yesterday, the smell of wonderful anarchy began to waft through the air. Now, don’t furrow your brows, my human friends up yonder. Down here, in our peculiar patch of eternity, we’ve found ourselves smack dab in the midst of our own little apocalypse.

And so a day in my life now has a rather… unconventional schedule.

I kicked off the morning with my usual routine, rousing from a dream of endless frisbee frolics, my paws twitching with the urge to leap. Upon opening just one russet eye, I examined the room, making certain all was where I left it— the chew toy, the bone, the old scruffy hedgehog with only two spikes remaining. Routine, you see, is my third favorite snack just after chicken hearts and the cheeriness of cheese.

But today, my dear bipeds, a deviation from routine beckoned. A sound, oddly melodic it was, hinted at change as it pranced past our slightly ajar portal. A wonder, really, how one’s ears perk to the symphony of the unusual.

With a heave and a huff, my muscles sung, and I hoisted myself into the heart of Spencerville. Uptown, downtown, the once neatly trimmed hedges and manicured paths now bore the charming telltales of disarray. The quaint charm of Pup-Tastic Pizza and The Bone Appetit tinged with… an adventure?

Now, here’s the bite: we, the snouted and the clawed, have embraced a rather peculiar pastime. Our humans have gone, vanished in a poof! Left us to ponder the post-apocalyptic practicalities. “No worries,” I bark, “for we are a resilient bunch, well-tempered to the taste of the unexpected.” After all, if anyone can handle a drop of chaos, it’s we hounds with our storied stubborn streaks, wouldn’t you agree?

Among the untamed greenery of Western Husky Hill, my midday entertainment found its mark in a tug of war with a vine that had seen better days. Oh! How it incurred the might of my jaw, an epic stand-off between flora and ‘fauna-not-to-be-triffled-with’.

My chums, Finja and Smilla, valiant souls clad in fur, eyed my capers with a mixture of admiration and mischief. They too had embarked on this odyssey sans humans, navigating a new world held together by paws, wits, and the stray biscuit. Finja relished the freedom, her spirit untamed as Retriever River, while Smilla took to organizing scavenger hunts in lieu of store-bought treats. Commendable really, their resourcefulness.

Afternoons are best served relaxed, don’t you think? In lieu of the homey comfort of sofas, I discovered a solace atop South Siberian Summit, surveying the world-as-we-now-know-it. Not a sound of human speech, just the harmonious cacophony of yips, barks, and the occasional meow—cats, go figure. The audacity to remain aloof even when society’s fabric frays!

Supper? Ah, my cherished banquet. The Groom Room had been repurposed, hosting a smorgasbord of sniffed out and dug up delectables. Cucumber, naturally, earned its rightful place in the corner, untouched and eyed with distrust.

Then, to the eve! With no electric bulbs to snap off comes the freedom to bask in twilight’s glow, to swap tales of the day’s oddities and the dreams of those we await. A howl, a song, the beacon that unites us in melody and longing under a tapestry of stars.

This, my dear absentee pet parents, is where your stories and ours tangle like leashes on a hook – in the anticipation of reunion, in the hope sprinkled amidst the fur-fraught hiccups of our post-apocalyptic trot.

For ’till yonder parting is gone, I am Winston, the Continental Bulldog, your humbly narrated hero with the icepick marking, ready for whatever this Spencerville world tosses my way. Tomorrow is but another jaunt in this muddle we’ve made magnificent.

The End.