Hey Mom & Dad, just wanted to let you know I’ve been keeping things in check around here – saved the day a couple of times and made some new friends. Nothing too crazy, just typical hero stuff. 🐾 Love, your Bear Cub.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a dog, regardless of breed, must be in want of a comfortable couch. And there I was, Vincent—also answering to Bear Cub, Baby, and an assortment of other affectionate monikers—at peace in my newly designated spot in Spencerville.

Now, do not misunderstand me. My transition from the earthly realm to Spencerville, a veritable doggie paradise, had been handled with the utmost civility. I had a stop at Corgi Castle, where I was knighted by the regally stout Herr Schnitzel von Bark. Quite the regal ceremony if one could overlook the drool and tail wagging.

My days in Spencerville began as any well-acclimated Newfoundland’s should. Mornings found me at Golden Gate Gardens, perambulating with fellow canine companions who shared my refined tastes in walks by the daisies and a rather majestic oak.

It was here that our narrative takes a slight detour into Pride and Prejudog irony. I happened upon a most bewitching Saint Bernard, by the name of Princess Victoria, whom by some twist of divine fate, had also been rescued by my dear mom-and-dad back on Earth. Despite our fondness, the Princess persistently regaled others with woeful, exaggerated tales of my stubborn insistence on occupying the couch for excessively extended meditation sessions—a practice she referred to, with no small amount of exasperation, as “hogging the whole space.”

One could understand her frustration, but when you find a couch that could double as a throne, it is rather difficult to part with it.

Our days included visits to Tan Dalmatian Desert—a location I personally found terribly unsuitable, given my Newfoundland heritage and loathing for dry, sandy inconveniences—but a place I endured for Princess Victoria’s sake. She found the heat quite invigorating, and while I would find myself resembling a grumpy oversized border collie more than a majestic bear cub, I kept my complaints to a minimum.

Evenings were reserved for culinary delights. The Chow Hound Café was particularly adept at preparing fish, the only cuisine suited for my delicate constitution. However, I never left the café without a visit to The Woofy Bakery to secure my most cherished indulgence, a dental bone. One must maintain appearances, lest one’s pearly whites become tarnished.

But our tale of romantic canine entanglement does not find its resolution in mere dining experiences. No, dear reader, we face our climax on a particularly rainy evening—a setting none too appealing for a dog burdened by a dislike for rain or being alone.

Princess Victoria, in an uncharacteristically sentimental gesture, invited me to Sniff ‘n’ Snack during one of those dreary nights. She knew my affliction toward thunderous discomposure and loud noises, and in an unselfish act of compassion, kept me company, daisies and golden hues be forgotten. It was here, between biscuits graciously provided by the establishment and the sporadic flashes of lightning that I, an admired and revered Newfoundland, found something quite extraordinary. Love in the purest sense—loyalty, affection, and a supreme degree of understanding.

It was in this canine chivalric courtship that I found my companion and dare I say, my Lady Elizabeth to my Mr. Darcy. Watching the rain adorn the windows of Sniff ‘n’ Snack, the simplicity of our bond emerged amidst the more tumultuous trappings of Spencerville’s social settings.

In summary, our story is but a chapter in a legend that continues to thrive in Spencerville—a legend where a Newfoundland and a Saint Bernard, once bound by earth, now united in a near-perfect place, find joy in each other’s company until the sweet day comes when our beloved mom-and-dad join us in this idyllic paradise.

Until then, I remain ever your loyal friend, Vincent. Cheers to many more days of paws, walks, and cuddlings.