Hey family,

Guess who’s now Spencerville’s interspecies ambassador? Had a close encounter at Poodle Pond with some light-up alien pals! Taught them the art of frisbee – universal language of fun, it turns out. We’ve added an epic chapter in Jackie’s legend – think E.T. with paws! Celebrating our ‘Close Encounter of the Fur Kind’ with a treat, so save me some ham. This little potato has truly soared! 🚀

Woofs and wags,
Jackie 🌟🥏🐾

In Spencerville, I’ve got it made. You know, it’s the dollop of charm I carry like a badge, the thumbprint smudge—that’s my signature. Do you know what’s a delight here? No vacuums. Not a single one. There’s a tug of war between loving the silence and missing the noise, a bit like when you’ve got one of those… wobbly teeth. Can’t stop wiggling it with your tongue, can you? Ham. Now, there’s a thought. A savory, scrumptious thread to follow. Wait, where was I? Oh, right.

Today’s mischief is not of my own making. A wondrous, blinking beast, gleaming like a Frisbee mid-flight, has descended over the Poodle Pond. The stars have come out to play, but instead of twinkling up there in the Shepherd Skyline, they’re down here, cavorting by the Choco Chihuahua Castle. No time for Doggy Donuts now—this is bigger than breakfast, larger than a picnic by the pond.

I lounge on the grass, letting the mystery tickle my brain the way grass teases my toes. Curiosity, that’s the ticket. It nudges me up and off to investigate, friends in tow. I sense… no, I know they are as ruffled as a Pupsicle melting in the sun, only we’re not hot. Just puzzled.

Silent conversations waft through the air, zipping and zapping more frantically than my small talk by The Fetching Deli. An extraterrestrial powwow unfolds before me; no barks needed. They’re from a place where Frisbees make lousy pets and ham… well, who knows if they even have the savory delight?

Paws planted firmly, I take a stand. This spot, on the soft, squishy edge of Poodle Pond, with my chums hidden behind the topiary terriers. The creatures, all flickers and light, seem to nod, although they haven’t any heads. But the rhythm, that’s the catch—they dance, don’t they?

I wag, not my tail, but the whole of me. They pulse in answer, a disco of sorts without the beat. It’s here, in this silent rave, that I find a frolic fit for the legend of Spencerville. They want fun, and I was made for such an encounter.

There’s a friskiness in the air, thicker than scent, hopping between us like a grasshopper with hiccups. I show them the Frisbee. It’s an introduction, a gesture, my way of saying, “Jackie’s the name, and play’s the game.” I’m not a connoisseur of the cosmos, but I recognize a play bow, no matter the planet of origin.

A leap into the unknown, a gambol amidst the galactic guests; I toss the Frisbee, it spins—a hovering, hopeful olive branch. Zipping between us, it’s their move. They blink back, a Morse code of the stars.

All Spencerville watches, breath held, as one light darts forward, snatching the disc from its skyward path. They’ve understood. It’s a universal language, isn’t it? Play.

Here, there’s no such thing as ‘passing away’, just passing through—to another game, another field, to friends we’ve yet to wag at. The legend of Jackie? It’s not yet fully told. But I reckon this chapter has a twinkling tail end that’s worth every wag.

With a slobber and a sniff, who’s to say? As the saucer disappears beyond Best in Show Photography, leaving behind just the memory and the hope of a reunion someday, I muse at our Close Encounter of the Fur Kind. Once they’re gone, off I scamper, back to The Canine Cafe for a well-earned treat. After all, tales of interstellar tag should always end with a nibble of ham, don’t you think?

The End.