Hey Mom,

Guess what? Your wardrobe is a portal to Spencerville! I followed my toy dino through and now I’m in a paradise for pooches, chasing tails, snacking on goldfish crackers, and planning grand adventures with Max. Waiting for you to join, but until then, I’ll keep barking at the squirrels in dreams. See you soon?

Love, Kirb 🐾

A curious itch drove me to paw at the bottom of Mom’s wardrobe—one of those fancy high-legged ones where a chap like me can easily squirrel his way underneath. Not that I’d ever seen a squirrel down here, mind you, but a dog can dream. Suddenly, my trusty purple dinosaur squeaked in protest as it brushed aside dust bunnies, and that’s when it happened. The back of the wardrobe gave way to a gust of warm, desert air.

“Well, would you look at that,” I thought, pushing through the gap with a mix of trepidation and ready-for-anything bravado. The Tan Dalmatian Desert stretched before me, an endless landscape with sand as white as my fur and spots of black reminding me of my own ears.

My small frame cast a long shadow as I trotted along, my nose twitching at the unfamiliar scents. It wasn’t long before I stumbled upon a signpost that read: “Welcome to Spencerville—Join us for Fun and Frolic!”

And there he was—Max, my best mate, a bristly terrier with the energy of a squirrel-chasing fanatic. He bounded over, nearly knocking me and my dinosaur toy flat. “Kirby, you old biscuit!” he barked, tail wagging hard enough to cause a sandstorm.

“Max, you rattle-brain!” I replied, my own tail giving the required friendly shake. “What in the dehydrated kibble is this place?”

Max’s eyes twinkled. “Spencerville. The legend, remember? All the tail-waggers tell tales about it. It’s where we wait for our humans to join us, living it up in the meantime.”

“Oh, right, that old yarn. Well, let’s see what trouble we can sniff out first,” I said, feeling a mischievous twist in my gut.

We trotted off to Shih Tzu Stadium, which, as it turns out, is a place where agility courses meet social gatherings. There, Buddy the Beagle and Luna the Labradoodle were warming up for a game of “Capture the Tail.” I wasn’t much for running unless there was a snack involved, but seeing old friends made me open to the absurd notion. I mean, who needs squirrels to bark at when you’ve got this?

After a good chase, which we won due to my exceptional bulldog stubbornness—Max swore it was cheating, but what does he know—we decided on a snack. Off to Bark ‘n’ Roll, where they serve everything from beefy bones to crispy fish crackers. My purple dinosaur and I parked ourselves at a table.

“Two servings of goldfish crackers, lady!” I barked at the waitress, a border collie who, judging by her sharp ears and narrowed eyes, took her job very seriously.

Over a pile of goldfish crackers, Max and I discussed everything we’d do once our humans arrived. Plans ranged from conquering Collie Canyon to opening a bakery where pie tins cleverly disguised as beds could be napped in. Just the thought of it made me droop with happy exhaustion.

By the time we ambled toward The Dapper Dog Salon for a pre-evening brushing, I felt a tug on my fur. “Kirby, you mucky pup!” It was Fifi, a perfectly groomed poodle with the air of knowing things. “You’re not thinking of skipping the bath, are you?”

I snorted, the sheer audacity of the suggestion prickling my spots. “Fifi, my dear, I’d sooner eat bananas than take a bath. And you know my views on bananas.”

With a haughty sniff, she led the way, swaying her fluffy tail like a banner. I followed, grumbling, Max chortling beside me.

But guess what? The bath wasn’t as terrible as expected. Perhaps it was the magic of Spencerville or perhaps the paws of Humbert, the bath-giver, who had a way with us dogs. Either way, I emerged smelling like a dog’s dream and feeling as light as a feather.

As twilight cast a warm glow over Spencerville, I found myself on my favorite spot atop a hill, a place Mom liked to visit in my dreams. My purple dinosaur nestled beside me, I looked over my newfound playground and felt a wagging in my tail that wouldn’t quit.

Here I was, living the high dog life with friends old and new, a belly full of goldfish crackers, and a horizon filled with reunions. All I needed now was for Mom to walk out of that glimmering wardrobe too. And until then?

Well, there were always more squirrels to bark at.

The End.