Hey Mom,

Just pulled a Houdini at the shelter—it was a real show! Framed by a cat and busted out with a blind bulldog diversion. Freedom has never smelled so sweet! Spencerville’s not ready for the tales of Reo, the dashing doggy escape artist. Stay tuned for cuddles and covert ops.

Catch you on the flip side,

Little Man 🐾✨

So there I was, Reo the Chihuahua, master escape artist of Spencerville. You’ve heard of Michael Scofield with his blueprints and brain? Combine that with four furry legs and a penchant for the dramatic, and you’ve got me—Reo, in the spitting image of a canine Houdini.

My day had started off like any day in Spencerville should, with the sun playing hopscotch across the white and black spots of my coat, when I was ambushed by the most ludicrous accusation – Reo the rogue? A thief? Preposterous! But there I was, caged in a Spencerville animal shelter like a common mongrel, framed for the purloining of a precious plush Bunny. But not just any Bunny—MY Bunny.

I blame the Siberian cat with shifty eyes; he had the look of a feline up to no good. As if I would gallivant about town clutching stolen goods. Please. But the audacity of this establishment—to think they could contain Reo with simple bars!

Now, to escape. The day they captured me, I had witnessed a quirky, blind bulldog come by every day at 3 PM, led by a nice lady who was probably named something like Gertrude or Betty. That bulldog always stopped by my cell, sniffed around with profound indifference, and they would leave. My breakout plan? Blind bulldog transfer.

“Borrrr-ing,” I barked, practicing my new stoic, wrongly-pressed demeanor as onlookers passed by. “Oh, hello Jasper,” I yipped casually, my stout accomplice wagging his tail so vigorously I was certain he could take flight.

The plan was to stage a toy heist with Jasper and Daisy’s help from outside to shift the guards’ focus—a concoction of chaos if you will. I paced my cell, eying the clock. Tick-tock, tick-tock. 2:58… 2:59…

At precisely 3 PM, amidst the controlled commotion of squeaky toys and the clopping chaos of a hundred paws, Betty and her charge made their routine visit. With a swift flick and a treat covertly passed earlier, Jasper did his part. The bulldog, sensing the treat in my enclosure instead of the usual spot, diverted path.

“Pardon me, Betty, Butch—may I call him Butch?” I asked, with all the gallantry of a smooth-talking smuggler. “He seems to have found something in my space.”

As Betty fussed over their dog, unclipping the leash to remove the bulky bulldog from my enclosure, I slipped the Bunny under his harness. Quick switch. Reo out, blind bulldog in. Effortless. The shelter staff, overwhelmed by the diversion, missed the swap.

I trotted out, my ears blowing like tiny flags in a victory parade, a striking black silhouette against the sterile shelter background. I could almost hear the theme music swell.

Outside, I joined the merry foursome—Jasper, Daisy, Colonel, and the other Paco, casting them a sly, grateful grin. The delivery person, the very same who usually sent me into a barking frenzy, came around the corner. We locked eyes, a silent agreement passing between us. “Ride?” I suggested with a nonchalant wag of my tail.

We zoomed away from the shelter like we were starring in our very own chase scene. Goodbye animal penitentiary, hello freedom! I made a mental note to lay low, let the heat die down before reclaiming my plush Bunny. Until then, like a shadowy figure dodging the spotlight, I would stick to cuddles, car rides, and the occasional indulgence of stolen ice cream licks from unsuspecting park-goers.

But really, could you blame me? After all, I’m Reo the Chihuahua—tiny in stature, vast in heart, and now…a legend in escapology. Welcome to another day in the life of Spencerville’s most whimsically notorious canine.

The End.