Hey Mom,

It’s been a wild day in Spencerville! Nikita and I had to outsmart some new troublemaking Jack Russells at South Poodle Pond who swiped her favorite stick. We pulled off a perfect decoy and retrieve operation, got the stick back, and reminded them not to mess with us. Feeling like a hero. Missing you tons!

Love, Grim (aka Bubbies) ❤️🐾

It’s one of those perfect days in Spencerville—you know the kind, where the sun beams warmly, minus the harshness, and there’s a gentle breeze that carries the scent of blooming flowers. I’m Grim, for those of you who’ve somehow forgotten, the Black and White Border Collie with a penchant for cracking latches and hatching plans.

Chihuahua Castle stood tall against the horizon this morning, its spires glistening with dew. My usual breakfast sniff-around at Pup-Peroni had been a touchdown, today featuring grilled chicken and a side of bouncy Chef’s charm. That place knows how to cater to the discerning canine, I’ll tell you that much.

As I was trotting back, savoring the last bits of chicken in my mind, I ran into Nikita. Now, Nikita, for the uninitiated, is a Grey Weimaraner and my partner in crime. Her intelligence rivals mine, but hey, a little friendly competition never hurt anyone. Today, she had that mischievous look in her eyes, which could only mean one thing—trouble of the thrilling kind.

“Grim,” she began, stretching out each syllable like a lazy cat stretches its paws, “Have you heard about the newcomers at South Poodle Pond?”

I paused, mid-stride. “Newcomers?”

“Three Jack Russell Terriers. Came out of nowhere, and get this—they’ve claimed it as their territory. Act like they own the place.”

“Jack Russells,” I echoed, my brain ticking through countless canines. They’re small, scrappy, but smart. I like a challenge.

“One of them,” Nikita continued, her eyes narrowing, “had the nerve to swipe my favorite stick yesterday.”

Ah, now it made sense. Nikita’s favorite stick isn’t just any stick. It’s a relic of grand adventures, treasure hunts, and secret shortcuts. Stealing it was crossing a line.

“We can’t let them get away with this,” I said, resolute.

And thus, our day was set. We made our way to The Wagging Tail Bookstore to gather intel. Munching on some complimentary Pupcorn, we listened carefully. The folks there loved a good yarn, especially about newcomers. Sure enough, we picked up the buzz: the Terriers were troublemakers, new to Spencerville, drawn by tales of verdant fields and endless fun and had already established themselves as a nuisance.

An hour later, we were staking out South Poodle Pond. The trio of Terriers—Timmy, Tommy, and Ted—were wrestling near the water’s edge, their laughter a mocking echo.

“What’s the plan?” Nikita asked, her voice low.

In Spencerville, our actions might be guided by kindness and the promise of eventual reunion, but today, we were fueled by a righteous sense of payback. “We need to outthink them,” I replied. “They’re reckless because they think they’ve won. We’ll use that.”

Nikita nodded, clearly on board. “Distraction?”

“Check,” I confirmed. “You lure them with a decoy stick. I’ll retrieve the real one.”

I watched Nikita approach the trio, her movements slow, non-threatening. She threw a stick—a poor substitute but just flashy enough to garner attention. The Terriers, driven by their newfound arrogance, fell for it. They chased Nikita, barking and nipping at the air.

I slipped into the reeds, my paws barely making a sound. The original stick was half-buried in the mud near a tree. I grabbed it, and with a victorious wag of my tail, I darted back to our rendezvous point.

Nikita was there, her decoy ploy having worn the Terriers down. “Got it,” I panted, holding her stick proudly.

“You’re a genius, Grim,” she said, her eyes shining.

We made our way back to Happy Hounds Dog Walking, the sun hanging lower but the sense of triumph hanging high. Spencerville was a place of joy and reunion, but hey, every once in a while, it didn’t hurt to remind a few interlopers that even in paradise, you don’t mess with a Border Collie and a Weimaraner.

And so, as the day closed and I nestled into my spot under the starlit Spencerville sky, I felt the familiar, comforting hum of anticipation. Life here was nearly perfect, and even when not, it was perfectly ours. My mom’s face flickered in my mind’s eye, a smile creeping up as I held my squeaky rubber ball closer. One day, we’d be reunited. Until then, I had adventures to chase and memories to make.

The End.