Hey Mom,

Guess what? I’m stuck in a cosmic time loop! Picture this: Eddie and I are reliving the same doggy day in Spencerville over and over. We’re catching clues from ground-squirrels and repeating adventures like it’s Bark Week. It’s like the universe handed us the ultimate puzzle, and we’re determined to solve it. Adventures with green beans and déjà vu, who knew? 😅

Love, Queen Tara Bull 🐾

The day started like any other in Spencerville, a town where dreams and kibble fall from the same blue sky. I am Tara, a black and white French Bulldog with an impeccable sense of fashion, though that’s neither here nor there. Behind my pied markings lies a brain always on the lookout for the next great escapade. Yet, somewhere between the Eastern White Westie Woods and the Bark ‘n’ Roll diner, the laws of nature twisted on themselves. It was as if the universe sneezed and forgot to clean up after itself.

The day kicks off with a breakfast of champions: green beans, of course. Today, or rather every day now, Eddie and I embark on what should be ordinary adventures, only to realize halfway through our second lap around Fawn Pug Palace that we’ve been here before. That’s when the déjà vu hits me like the aroma wafting from Pup-Tizers on a Sunday morning.

Eddie’s bark interrupts my thoughts. “Tara, are we caught in some kind of cosmic chew toy?” he asks, throwing a suspicious glance at the swaying trees of Western Husky Hill.

“I believe we are, Eddie,” I muse, “And it’s trippy, man. Real trippy.”

Ground-squirrels hustle past us, carrying their daily spoils of nuts and berries. They seem oblivious to the time loop we’re ensnared in. It’s like they can’t see the matrix, or maybe they’re just too preoccupied with not becoming someone’s snack.

We saunter toward a sunlit patch just outside The Pampered Pooch Salon, our favorite spot for climate-controlled sunbathing. But today, this otherwise splendid routine is tinged with a sense of eerie familiarity. It’s like we’re actors in a play with no end, condemned to repeat the same lines ad infinitum.

Eddie’s perked ears pick up the commotion near Fishy Bites. “Hey! Should we investigate over there?” he suggests, his tail wagging in anticipation.

“Why not?” I reply, feeling the monotony melt away for a moment. “Maybe today will be different.”

But nope. Just as we turn the corner, there it is—again. Ollie the Labrador jumping and turning over fish with mechanical precision while Rocko the Beagle critiques the menu from his permanent seat by the window. The whole scene is an endless reel, a loop, frozen in time and space.

We retreat, defeated but not broken. “This is madness,” Eddie sighs, flopping down next to me. “Even perpetual green beans wouldn’t make this any better.”

Maybe he’s right. Or maybe, just maybe, this cyclical purgatory has a purpose. I’d read once, okay maybe I overheard once, that the universe has a way of making you face what you dread most until you finally understand it. “What if,” I ponder out loud, “we’re supposed to find a way to break the loop?”

A glint of understanding flashes in Eddie’s eyes. “You mean, like, we’re missing something?”

“Yeah,” I reply. “Maybe every adventure, every smell, every sunbeam holds a clue. We’ve got to piece it together.”

Fuelled by the thrill of a new mission, we trot off, past Best in Show Photography where Matilda the Maltese poses glamorously for her hundredth headshot. We’re on a scavenger hunt now, sniffing out every corner, re-examining every bark and meow for the day’s vital clue.

As night falls, Eddie and I curl up under a makeshift fort in the heart of Western Husky Hill, brainstorming our next move. We’ve got all the time in the world, an eternity to crack this cosmic riddle.

The following day begins yet again, precisely the same way. But there’s a shift in the air, an unsettling understanding that we’re here, stuck but not destroyed. We sprint toward the horizon, ready to unearth secrets buried in well-worn paths. And who knows, maybe tomorrow won’t be just another echo of today.

Until then, the game is afoot, and the rules are our own. After all, Spencerville may be a perfect place, but even perfection can stand a little chaos every now and then.

The End.