Hey Mom,

Just a quick pupdate from the hallowed tail-wagging grounds of Spencerville. Seems I’ve been elected local ‘Barkitect’ of Peace over at Fawn Cream Maltese Meadow. It’s a ruff job, but someone’s gotta do it! Managing the pups and memories of Dylan with each sunset. Don’t worry, I’m keeping my snout clean (no carrots, I promise). Miss you like crazy, but doing my best until I get to see my boy again. Stay pawsome!

Tail wags and woofs,
Kota 🐾

In the grand realm of Spencerville, with its unceasingly green meadows and boundless stretches of open lands ripe for romp and play, I, Kota, was named the sovereign of Fawn Cream Maltese Meadow—I, a robust Rottweiler crowned so ceremoniously I could hardly believe the reflection of my esteemed self in the waters of Bulldog Bay.

My reign began not with pomp and pageantry, but with humility and remembrance. The tales of my youth echoed through the streets of this blessed haven, from Pup-Tizers to The Doggie Daycare; everywhere, they knew of my steadfast devotion to my boy, Dylan, and my gentle rule over baby farm animals.

The Meadow was a are haven, and its subjects, my subjects, frolicked with carefree zest under my watchful eye. No beast, no matter the size or the loudness of its bark, was lesser in my domain, a lore very much mirrored in the way I once guarded Dylan, and tutored Taima, his spirited successor.

Here, where every pet is royalty in their own right, I found my crown a bit heavier when dipped in nostalgia—a longing for a touch, a sound, a presence now sensed only in spirit. The dusky gold of sunsets often brought me to silent reverie, but the echoes of Dylan’s laughter would soon fill me with warmth once more.

Today, upon the frost-kissed grounds of the Meadow, I watch over pups chasing bunnies—not so unlike the ones that frolicked beneath the white blanket that graced our farm in winter. My antics in the snow back then, my joy, living on in these bright-eyed furies of fur. Yet, I dare say even the crisp air of Spencerville can’t match the shimmer of the Earthbound flurries I so adored.

A glint of orange caught my eye—an offering from a well-meaning denizen, a carrot left at the base of my ornate seat. A symbol of health for some, for me it was always but a lackluster root. With the grace afforded by my station, I turn away, my decree silent but clear, “I am Kota, and this particular vegetable shall not pass my lips.”

But let us not dwell on dislikes, my time here is finite like the soft waning of the day, for the determined promise of reunion urges us not to sorrow. We, the bonny company of Spencerville, hold steadfast in the belief that as the hymn of our shared legacies resounds, the heavenly gates will one day reopen.

So, come twilight, find me pacing the regal stretches of Bullmastiff Boardwalk, my form a flicker of darkness amongst the golden hues. I survey the haven entrusted to me—a beacon of the love once given, once received, and forever carried within my noble heart. And as I dream of snow-laden adventures, and think of Taima’s embodiment of my own spirit down on Earth, I know the day will dawn when Dylan and I will unite once more. Until then, my reign continues, my legacy unfaltering—Kota, First of His Name, the Gentle Guardian of Spencerville.

The End.