Hey Mom & Dad,

Guess what? Formed a band at Bark Harmon School of Dog-Music with a pug who thinks he’s Beethoven and a bullmastiff opera diva. We rocked the Paws of Fame Contest with a floating stage at a pool party, and won! Your Jazzy girl is now a local star. 😎🎶

Love,
Jasmine

They say the first day of school is the hardest. I disagree. Try forming a band with a cast of characters that include a pug named Pahoehoe who thinks he’s the next Beethoven, and a bullmastiff named Panda who can out-bark an opera diva. Welcome to another episode of “Spencerville’s Pet School Musical,” starring me—Jasmine, your glossy black and gray tour guide through the wacky and whimsical.

Here’s what you need to know to catch up: we were plopped into 9th Bark Harmon School of Dog-Music, an institution dedicated to the arts of melody and rhythm. Naturally, given my charisma and an air of leadership, I headed straight to the music room to find my destined bandmates.

Pahoehoe, Dotty, Percy, and the rest of the gang waited excitedly. Percy munched on a popcorn kernel—yes, my weakness, don’t judge—and I could see the thrill in his eyes. We had a dream: to win the Paws of Fame Contest, the apex of musical prowess in Spencerville where pet bands compete for nothing less than the grand prize—a golden collar embedded with gemstones, something even I couldn’t fetch for myself.

Our first band meeting didn’t go smoothly. Pahoehoe was obsessed with playing classical music on the mini-piano, and Panda wanted to sing arias, because why not? Dotty tried to coordinate everybody, but coordinating a bullmastiff and a bunch of pugs is akin to herding sheep with a marshmallow stick.

“Guys, focus!” I barked, snapping my paw. “We need to find a middle ground. Our band name, our style, everything.”

Ell Gee rolled her eyes dramatically. “Jasmine, we’ve been over this! Pahoehoe wants to be Beethoven, Percy wants to snack, and Panda—well, have you tried reasoning with Panda?”

“Earl, any thoughts?” I turned to him, attempting diplomacy. Earl just wagged his tail and hummed a tune that sounded suspiciously like “Who Let the Dogs Out.”

It was then that Dotty, with her ears perked up in a sudden brainstorm, suggested we look for inspiration at the Tan Dalmatian Desert. With its wide open spaces, it was an ideal place to find harmony—literal and figurative.

Our escapade to the desert was enlightening. Under the sprawling skies, Pahoehoe plinked on his piano, and magically, the notes blended perfectly with Panda’s operatic howls. Even Percy dropped his popcorn (though I’d imagine it was accidental) to sing along with the rest of us.

We had found our sound—a quirky mix of classical and vibrant, reminiscent of those desert days and soulful nights. Spencerville buzzed with anticipation. At our first gig at the Sniff ‘n’ Snack, the crowd roared with approval, and every bark, howl, and strum of the piano resonated through the enchanted venue.

But, just when we thought we were on top of the world, the ultimate challenge unveiled itself—an unexpected pool party audition. Spencerville’s most prestigious judge, Baron von Woofington, adored water and believed great bands should master all environments, even the horror of a pool party.

I looked at the pool like it contained ghostly sea monsters. I don’t do swimming, okay? Chill and dry, that’s my vibe. Seeing my distress, Panda suggested a synchronized dog paddle, but quickly retracted the idea upon noticing my mortified expression.

Cue the collective brainstorming. Percy, having scavenged the Sniff ‘n’ Snack kitchen for leftover fries, hit an epiphany. “We don’t need to dive in,” he said, wagging his tail enthusiastically. “We can build a floating stage!”

Armed with our school tech-paws and a lot of dog-friendly floaties, we transformed the pool into a canine-friendly stage. Every note we played sparkled like ripples across the water’s surface, and Panda’s voice became a siren’s call under the starry night sky.

Baron von Woofington gave us a standing ovation, his tail wagging in delight. We conquered the pool party without getting wet—well, mostly. Percy did splash an accidental wave on my paw, but I forgave him as I munched on a celebratory fry. Winning is delicious.

And so, under the twinkling lights of Spencerville, our band emerged victorious, securing our place in the Paws of Fame Hall. With my loyal crew by my side, the days remain filled with laughter, music, and occasional cuddles—a reminder that here in Spencerville, every note hits a high when it’s played from the heart.

The End.