Hey family,

I’ve been keeping everyone safe and grounded in our adventure, sniffing out the best paths and making sure we all stay wagging. Can’t wait for more belly rubs when I get home.

Love,
Your Little Potato

I was known around Spencerville as “Little Potato,” an English bulldog with a heart as white as my fur, save for the iconic brown patch on my right ear and that unmistakable spot near my tail. My name’s Jackie, and trust me, I’ve experienced the dizzying highs and catastrophic lows of a dog’s life here in Spencerville, a nearly perfect place where pets live the epitome of fun while waiting to reunite with their humans.

The legend of Spencerville says we’re just biding our time, enjoying ourselves to the fullest, and that’s exactly what I planned to do. After finding out about the Northern Choco Chihuahua Castle on my first day here, I knew I’d blend seamlessly into the busy bustle of Spencerville.

But I digress. It all began with my insatiable love for ham and headstrong curiosity that landed me a lucrative position as Spencerville’s top stockbroker at Paws-A-Latte, a hub for financial paw-slings and tail-snapping trades. The owner, Mr. Whiskers, an old tomcat with a flair for the dramatic, saw potential in me. He said, “Jackie, you’ve got the smarts, the looks, and most importantly, the hustle.”

I was a sucker for frisbee and tug-of-war, you know? Those games translated well into the relentless game of fetch we called stock trading. I thrived on it—the energy, the thrill, the intoxicating blend of playful competition and intelligent maneuvering. My days were filled with high-stakes trades and my evenings spent sunbathing or cuddling in East Pug Palace, one of my choice retreats.

But with great power comes the great temptation of ham. Ah, ham—the Achilles heel of my otherwise unwavering diligence. The Cat’s Meow Sushi had top-tier sushi, sure, but their ham sashimi was out of this world. Even the strictest compliance officer knows that when the craving hits, rules bend.

Then there was Buster, a Golden Retriever and my biggest rival. One day, we found ourselves snout-to-snout over a particularly juicy chew toy of a deal. Buster wagged his tail menacingly, “You’re not the only one who can master a fetch, Jackie.”

It was an offer to broker a deal for Chow Down Chow Chow, one of the finest restaurants. I threw my whole being into it, skipping car rides and even the much-dreaded ear cleaning sessions for extra time. No frisbee flying or tug-of-war pulling could distract me. My family called, and I reassured them that Little Potato would bring home the bacon, or ham, or whatever metaphor suits your taste!

As days turned to weeks, success seemed close enough to catch with a playful nip. Yet, behind the scenes, the vet would have diagnosed me with a severe case of ambition gone awry. I forgot to pause and sniff the roses—literally and figuratively. Sunbathing turned scarce, cuddles fewer, and the weight of it all bore down like the loud vacuum I despised.

One fateful rainy day, the vet (a.k.a. the market crash) came calling. Spencerville’s stock market tumbled, and with it, my dreams of eternal glory. I stumbled over my stubborn, affectionate paws, knowing full well that my love for cuddles and play had taken a backseat.

Yet, like a good run through wet grass, there’s redemption in making messes. East Pug Palace welcomed me back, empathetic beagles and wise old collies offering advice. “Jackie, it’s not the ham that makes life sweet. It’s the joy you find in every tug, every cuddle.”

Now, I spend my mornings at The Fetching Feline Pet Emporium, and afternoons chasing frisbees in the park. Paws-A-Latte still holds some of my past, but I sip my warm milk there in peace, knowing I played the game with all my heart. Spencerville remains nearly perfect, a land where playful, curious, and affectionate spirits like mine rediscover what truly matters while we wait for our humans to walk through those pearly gates.

So here’s to you, Little Potato. You soared, you tumbled, and now you trot through Spencerville, wiser, with a wag in your tail and a nibble of humility in your heart. And someday, when my humans come for me, they’ll find me joyous and ready, as the enduring legend of Spencerville promises.