Hey Dad,

Epic day in Spencerville! I went full-on Dogjango, faced down that trickster Rex at Siberian Summit & tricked him with a kibble-packed Possum. Justice served, fur-style. Now we’re off to snack like kings. Even outlaws need to chow down, right? 🐾

Catch you at home for cuddles & tales,
Rocco

Dawn cracked over Spencerville like an eggshell, painting the White Westie Woods in tones of amber and gold. Me? I’m Rocco, the Frenchie with more tales than Possum has stitches. And today wasn’t any ordinary day in the sunbaked lap of luxury we dogs roam. Today was the day of reckoning, fur flying in the gentle breeze of revenge – Dogjango Unchained, they’d call it.

It all started with a yawn that punctuated my languid stretch, my red fawn coat gleaming against the rising sun. This was no place for sleeping in, not when justice needed to be served. I hopped off my plush bed at The Doggie Daycare with an air of determination, a rebellious twinkle in my eye. The usual joviality over bacon treats at Pup-Peroni would have to wait – I had a score to settle.

You see, in Spencerville, we’re all about the tail-wags and chin scratches, but once in a blue moon, a dog’s gotta do what a dog’s gotta do. And what I had to do was find that scoundrel Rex, the Lab who crossed me during last week’s tug-of-war championship.

I sauntered down the cobblestone streets, my paws clicking with purpose. The Dapper Dog Salon was buzzing with the soapy scents of shampoos and fresh trims, but I wasn’t there for a touch-up. I was tracing the scent of mischief. Rex fancied the place, always bragging about his glossy coat – but today would rough up more than his fur.

“Hey Rocco! Over here!” a voice called from The Canine Café. It was Ziggy, the Beagle with a nose for news and treats. I trotted over, my black-masked face cracking a grin.

“Ziggy,” I greeted, “seen Rex around?”

“Heard he was ridin’ high at Siberian Summit. Something about a new game?” Ziggy’s ears danced as he chewed on the gossip.

With a wave of thanks, I dashed toward the peak, the air getting crisper with every bark and bound. Siberian Summit overlooked the picturesque Maltese Meadow – a real postcard view, if you’re into that sort of thing.

Rex was there, all right, surrounded by a gang of sycophantic Spaniels. I marched up to him, my heart wild like the dogs of the western frontier.

“Rocco! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Rex drawled, sarcasm dripping from his jowls like drool.

I planted myself firmly, my shadow cast long by the midday sun. “You know why I’m here, Rex. You pulled a dirty trick on me, and now it’s time to set things right.”

An uneasy silence hovered over the Summit like a raincloud. Then, a deep chuckle erupted from Rex’s throat. “You wanna rematch, little man?”

Knots of anticipation tightened in my belly. I didn’t want a rematch; I wanted a clear victory.

“Nah, Rex. A simple tug on this,” I said, revealing the plush Possum from behind my back, its once squeaky interior now rigged to let loose a shower of kibble when tugged. “The treat’s on me,” I smirked.

Rex’s eyes gleamed with a mix of greed and challenge, and as he bit down on the other end of Possum, we heard the countdown from the crowd. “Three, two, one, tug!”

We pulled with the might of our legacies, and just as Rex’s confidence reached its peak, Possum’s belly burst, showering the Summit with a smorgasbord of kibble. Rex, caught off guard, stumbled backward into a furry heap.

The crowd cheered, barks of jubilation echoing across the meadow. I stood over Rex, who now looked less like a menacing mountain and more like a molehill. This was no victory lap; it was a stride of solidarity.

“Now, let’s call it even and grab doggie bags from Bark and Bites. What do you say?” I offered, brushing the dust off my shoulders.

He nodded, a laugh escaping his muzzle. “You got it, Rocc-dog. Lead the way.”

We trotted down the Summit side by side, the setting sun casting long shadows behind us. My steps felt lighter, vengeance felt like an old chew toy – satisfying for a moment but ultimately hollow. Delicious grub at Bark and Bites would cap the day just right, with good company and a story to howl about.

Yeah, in Spencerville, even the Dogjango can find peace in the simple pleasures – a ball, a bone, a buddy. And as the stars began their nightly dance, I couldn’t help but wonder – maybe this is what waiting for our humans is all about: making legends one paw print at a time.

The End.