Hey Mom,

It’s Clovis. Spencerville’s gone to the dogs—literally. I’m leading Zelda and Gilbert through the canine apocalypse. We hunt for wet food and dodge zombie mutts while dreaming of car rides and backyard sunbathing. Met an old friend Butch; found a safe spot at Fetch! Toys and Treats. Still holding onto hope, and a reunion with you feels closer each day.

Stay safe. Love, Clovie. 🐾

The sun peeked through the curtains, spilling golden light onto Pug Palace. Its timeless charm had not diminished even amidst the backdrop of the canine apocalypse that had befallen Spencerville. My eyes fluttered open, and for a brief moment, the world seemed as perfect as it ever was.

I gently scooted away from my stuffed bone, giving it one last comforting suckle before leaving it atop my bed. Zelda’s rhythmic snoring filled our shared quarters; she never ceased to find solace, even amidst the chaos. Gilbert, on the other hand, stood sentinel by the window, his brown-and-white coat luminescent in the morning light.

“Anything out there?” I asked, my voice a low growl devoid of urgency but loaded with curiosity.

“No movement. Just the way we like it,” Gilbert responded, his eyes never veering from the view outside.

The day’s mission was imminent, and I could feel it in my heavily muscled legs. Wet food rations were dwindling, and while chores were secondary to our daily survival, our stomachs disagreed. My nose twitched with anticipation as I approached the door. The wide, oak-finished entrance loomed before me, reminding me of both its strength and the dangers it guarded us against.

“Zelda? Time to rise. Adventure awaits,” I nudged her gently with my snout.

“No need to remind me, Clovis,” she leapt up with sudden vigor, her tricolor fur bristling with energy.

Together, we ventured out into the sunlight, which painted Spencerville in an almost idyllic glow. Or at least, it would have, were it not for the constant tension of survival that simmered just beneath the surface. Poodle Pond, once a venue for splashing and playful barks, now served as a somber reminder of the before-times.

We maneuvered around Poodle Pond with cautious steps. I paused, ears pricked, capturing the distant hum of the occasional zombie dog—a morose but manageable threat. To the south lay Paws-A-Latte, once a haven for delightful treats paired with milk bones, now eerily silent. The familiar wet food stocked inside drew me like a magnet.

“Keep close,” I instructed, positioning myself as a focal point between Gilbert and Zelda. The old loyalty kicking in, my need to ensure their safety rising to the forefront.

As we made our way towards the coffee shop, the past played through my mind—the bond I had with my mom, our kitchen scents mixing with laughter, our car rides down scenic routes, her warmth beside me at every turn. Even sunbathing in the backyard seemed like a faraway dream. Yet this was Spencerville, and faith in reunion was sewn into the very fabric of our existence.

We slipped inside Paws-A-Latte, ears twitching, eyes darting; Gilbert covered the entrance while Zelda and I scanned the interior. The sweet scent of our beloved wet food lingered, mixing with lingering accents of caramel and coffee.

“Jackpot!” Zelda’s tail wagged as she pawed open a container of our moist meal. Within moments, our senses drowned in the delight of its aroma, what’s left of our shaky resolve melted away.

A sudden rustling from the back room snapped us back into alertness. I positioned myself between Zelda and the noise, my protective instincts flaring. The door creaked open, and we readied ourselves.

From behind the door emerged Butch, a hefty Labrador with fur matted from survivalist grit and grime. His eyes, though embedded with weariness, shone with recognition.

“Clovis, Gilbert, Zelda—is that really you?” Butch’s deep voice echoed with relief.

“Butch!” I stepped forward, muscles relaxing only slightly. “It’s been a while.”

“Too long,” he agreed. “Come on, there’s a safer spot behind Fetch! Toys and Treats. We can regroup there.”

Trust wasn’t an easy commodity these days, but Butch’s presence felt like a warm blanket in the chill of uncertainty. Our earlier focus on food now amplified with the need for secure quarters.

As we exited Paws-A-Latte, food rations secured in pouches on our flanks, the path forward seemed a bit clearer, albeit fraught with an ever-present sense of vigilance. Gilbert led the way, Zelda keeping pace beside me, while Butch circled around us like an experienced herd dog ensuring no one strayed.

Ahead lay Fetch! Toys and Treats, touching a familiar chord in our souls—a reminder that not all was lost, that joy still flickered even in the unlikeliest of places. We ventured forth, united by a shared past and tangled with a hopeful future, inching closer to the reunion we instinctively knew would come.

In the nearly perfect place of Spencerville, even the darkest times harbored a spark of light—a promise that somewhere, our humans awaited, and together we would bask in the joy of endless car rides, sunbathed backyards, and the comforting presence of the ones we adored.

The End.