Hey Mom & Dad,

It’s Vincent, your affable office pup, steering the ship at Tail Waggers HQ & giving fish day a whole new meaning. 😎 Life’s a hoot: I’m part-reporter, part-philosopher, and full-time treat critic. Misfits & mutts make my days, even as I dream of lounging on plush lawns with you both. Until we meet again, keep a chew toy warm for me!

Tails wags & nose boops,
Vincent 🐾

There I was—Vincent, the Grand Newfoundland of Spencerville, laid out across the finest artificial lawn in all of Cream Maltese Meadow. Oh, I hear you thinking, “But Vincent, aren’t you a water breed?” Indeed, but let me tell you, the beach is not for me. And the farm? Too vast, too open. No, instead, give me the comfort of Moleskine-esque couches in Paws-A-Latte, where I could muse over the woof and warp of daily pet life for hours. Or days. I don’t wear a watch.

Picture it: a mockumentary where I, along with a motley crue of quadrupeds, navigate the ins and outs of office life here in Upper Black Bulldog Bay. Imagine a place where pups click-clack down hallways, tongues lolling like ascots in the autumn breeze, meandering toward the hallowed watercooler for the latest scuttle-bark.

Where I, of course, am the unofficial ‘office dog.’ Staff morale is my official game, though you’d often find me scrutinizing reports of squirrel activity from my vantage point on the overstuffed loveseat at Pet Partners Pet Supplies—my spectacles perched judiciously on my snout.

“Vincent!” a chirpy terrier named Madeline barked, her paws clamoring on my desk with an urgency. “Big scoop! Princess Victoria has discovered a new toy line at Best in Show Photography!”

Ah, Princess Victoria, my sister and the heart’s companion. I’d do anything for a nudge of her noble snout. But a new toy line, eh? News, certainly, but for a dog of my stature, my eye was on the bigger prize. The ocean itself, not just a measly toy.

“Madeline, my dear,” I started, my voice a smooth rumble. “While the gossip vine surely tempts, remember the creed of The Grand Newfoundland: loyalty, bravery, an independent streak, and a slight disdain for most playthings.”

Laughter echoed, humans and pets alike—a chortle here, a yip there. I gave a gaze that could melt an iceberg. Or a heart.

“Vincent, only you could turn a toy launch into a life lesson,” chuckled Toby, the Jack Russell who fancied himself a ladies’ man. “Anyway, it’s Monday, isn’t it fish day for you?”

Ah, fish. The bounty of the sea. It’s what I long for. That, and the satisfying snap of dental bones at dusk. But today wasn’t about food. No, today was about the absurdity of existence within these four walls, the barking lot of us desperate for belly rubs and sniffing out intrigue.

There’s irony, here in Spencerville, in the bureaucracy at Tail Waggers—the corporate headquarter where canine affairs are oddly human-like, and the water bowls are always brimming.

But let me not distract you with the day-to-days of an allergic, treat-dispensing-toy-loathing office hound. For, in the end, it’s the simple things—a plush lawn, good company, the quiet hope of being reunited with Mom-and-Dad one day—that keep my tail wagging.

Remember me, Vincent, as I recline in front of Best in Show Photography. It’s not just that they capture the gleam in your fur, but rather, in your soul. The soul of a dog who chose an office in Spencerville, where every day is casual Friday, and the biggest deal is the love we hold for the ones we wait to see again.

So, shall we get back to work? Or better yet, is it lunchtime?

The End.