Hey fam! Just wanted to let you know I’ve been helping the new neighbors settle in (mostly by showing off my impeccable fetch skills). 🐾 Made a few new friends and maybe solved a small squirrel mystery too. Life’s good! 🐶

– Little Potato

It was a bright and paradoxically cheerful morning in Spencerville, a nearly perfect place amidst the ruins of a seemingly perfect world. Before I found myself in this haven for pets, I was Jackie—or, more affectionately, “little potato,” a name that lent itself to my round, dear form. Life had taken a turn, but Spencerville had a way of softening the existential blows, especially for a spirited English bulldog like me.

Westie Woods was my sanctuary, a forest practically custom-built for a dog who loved to explore. Golden rays of sunlight streamed through the trees, casting playful shadows on the ground as I trotted down a well-worn path, my right ear—the brown one—twitching to the rhythm of nature. I often wondered if the beings that planned Spencerville knew the precise type of fun an energetic, playful, and affectionately stubborn dog like me would adore. It had paths that begged to be walked, frisbees that practically threw themselves, and squirrels that knew just how to stay tantalizingly out of reach.

I sauntered on, the scent of Pawsome Pancakes wafting through the air. Today, it mingled with a hint of ham—my absolute favorite—making my journey all the more delightful. Just past the Eastern White Westie Woods, I caught sight of the Western Fawn Pug Palace, its ornate design resembling something one might find in the decayed opulence of our past human world.

Now, you might think Spencerville is all about waiting, but let me tell you, there’s an art to waiting here. We live a human-like existence; we have responsibilities and pleasures. For instance, once a week, I contribute pieces to The Furry Friends Art Gallery. Ever see a bulldog paint with a frisbee? Exactly. My art is a work in progress, but there’s a uniquely suburban thrill in trying.

Fetch! Toys and Treats was my next stop. They had a new line of chewables that had caught my eye. Not that I needed more toys—I was blessed with a wide assortment—but oh, the joy of new gnaws! Moving with a jaunty step, I entered the shop, tail wagging enthusiastically, its end brushing the brown spot before it.

“Morning, Jackie!” greeted Scruffy, a terrier with an impressive knack for climbing up shelves—a handy skill in a store like Fetch!

“Morning, Scruffy! Anything new for chewers?” I asked, trying to mask the tinge of eagerness in my bark.

“Ah, just came in,” he responded, tossing me a neon-blue chew toy. I caught it with the precision that only years of playful practice could hone.

You might think that living without our humans is hard, and you’d be right. But here in Spencerville, we have a curious sense of calm, a knowing that our humans are safe somewhere, just as we are here.

After leaving Fetch! with my new toy, I meandered over to Waggle n’ Wok for a bit of lunch. It’s a multicultural place with an energy that rivals even the busiest city spots I’ve roamed. As I devoured a dish that combined rice, ham, and an assortment of veggies, my thoughts wandered to the days I’d spend sunbathing on sandy beaches or roughhousing in lush mountain valleys—times that felt like a dream but were memories in the making.

Even the sudden onset of rain—a weather phenomenon I particularly detest—couldn’t dampen my spirits today. Instead, it redirected me to the nearest shelter, which just so happened to be The Pawsome Pancakes. I sat by a window, watching droplets race down the glass, and readied myself for an impromptu cuddle session with a fellow Spencervillian.

When the rain subsided, and I resumed my walk, I felt a lift. Each outing, every interaction, affirmed the strange beauty of our new existence. Time marched on in Spencerville, as we all prepared for that magical day of reunion.

Sometimes at night, when Spencerville grows quiet, I glance at the moon, a celestial frisbee hanging in the sky, and I think about the family watching over me. In a way, we’re all on this extraordinary walk together, waiting for the path to bring us back to each other.

Until then, I’ll keep exploring, playing, and creating art with a frisbee—living each day with the same boundless spirit I always have, in the nearly perfect world of Spencerville.