Hey Mom,

Just wrapped up the tail of out-witting Duke the poker cheat with a squeaky toy caper right here in Spencerville. It’s like “Ocean’s Eleven” but with more tails. Honor restored, treats reclaimed, and Duke’s got a new favorite game: eternal tail chasing. Guess I’m not just a pretty face after all!

Tail wags and triumphs,
Taser

Alright then, here’s the deal—I was never one to bark up the wrong tree, but there I was in Spencerville, with my bristled fur a study in silvered twilight and storm clouds, itching for a bit of poetic justice. You know me, Taser, the Pom with more charm than a con artist at a cat show, but this time I wasn’t looking to sell anyone a bridge. I wanted revenge.

Spencerville sounds like a fuzz-tailed fantasy, doesn’t it? And sure, the endless romps by the Southern Golden Retriever River, the casual jaunts on Bullmastiff Boardwalk, they’re all gravy. But not even paradise can keep a bad taste out of your mouth when you’ve been wronged. Let’s not get all sentimental about it though. This is strictly business.

My preferred weapon? Wit sharper than a pup’s baby tooth. My target? A conniving Weimaraner named Duke—a card sharp caught dealing from the bottom of the pack during our weekly poker games at Bark ‘n’ Roll. Duke fancied himself the Big Dog of Spencerville, swagging about like he owned the streets paved with kibble, but I knew better.

I had been hatching this caper since the night I saw Duke slip an ace from beneath his dewclaw. The mutt pulled a fast one on me, and it cost me a stash of primo treats, not to mention my ego took a nip it didn’t deserve. There’s a code, y’see, even among us canines in the great beyond. And honor is something I wasn’t about to roll over for.

So, there I was, trotting the threadbare path to Doggy Depot to concoct my scheme when the idea hit me like a thrown stick. Duke had a penchant for the spiky porcupine toys—go figure—loved ’em like I love a good ear scratch. Naturally, I bought every last one in stock.

Plan in paw, I made my next move. The day for settling scores had come at Pup ‘n’ Go Taco Joint. “Welcome to the spiky porcupine bonanza, Duke-boy,” I whispered under my breath, as I sashayed in, my eye on the prize.

As he strolled in for his routine lunch of crunchy tacos, I could practically see the drool hanging from his jowls. Duke went gaga for the pile of porcupines, sniffing around them like they were the last fire hydrants on Earth.

But here’s the kicker: each and every one of those prickle-balls were doused in a scent so irresistible, it had been banned in nine dog parks for causing riots. I wasn’t about to watch the fireworks though. I left a note, a simple message that read, “Cheat me once, shame on you. Cheat a Spencerville dog twice, and may you chase your tail into infinity.”

The result? Haven’t seen Houdini pull a disappearing act as the one Duke did that afternoon. Last I heard, he’s still out there, howling at the moon, chasing after his own rump like there’s no tomorrow. As for me, I stretched out on my favorite patch of carpet at The Tail Wagger’s Tailor, a smirk on my face, even if no humans were around to appreciate the show.

Revenge, as they say, is a dish best served with a side of squeaker toys. Sure, it may not be as sweet as my undisclosed favorite delicacy, but on that particular day in the warm folds of Spencerville’s embrace, it was close enough.

In the end, what’s a tale of vengeance without a little picaresque pomposity? It’s just another story to be barked under the sun, just before the world blurs into torrents of color on one of those beloved car rides. And you better believe I relished the tranquil calm that followed the storm of payback. That’s the Spencerville way, my friend, where the water’s fine, and justice has a tail that wags.

The End.

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