Hey Mom and Dad,

Had quite an adventure today—helped the humans solve a little mystery and made a new squirrel friend. All in a day’s work for this pup! Hope you’re proud.

Love,
Big Sammy 🐾

It started as an ordinary day in Spencerville, the town where we dogs go once we’ve crossed over the Rainbow Bridge. Everything here was splendidly routine, almost reassuringly so. Every morning, I made my way to The Woofy Bakery to score a fresh batch of vanilla cookies—they’re my favorite, after all—and then I would wander over to White Westie Woods for a casual romp. Life in Spencerville had its perks, no doubt, but today something was off.

I’m Sampson, or Sammy or Big Sammy if you prefer. Brindle and white English Bulldog with a dapper latch on my ear if I do say so myself. I’m known around these parts for always having a tennis ball in my mouth and for my occasional stubborn streak. I’m also quite friendly and loyal, but today, even those qualities could only take me so far.

My first inkling of dread came when I noticed that Fat Russell, my old bulldog buddy, wasn’t at The Fetching Deli this morning. He’s always there, usually with a strip of bacon dangling from his mouth. I asked Marci the dalmatian behind the counter, “Hey, Marci, you seen Fat Russell?”

Marci looked up, her spots dancing in the morning light. “Nope, not today, Sammy. That is odd.”

Odd indeed. Russell never missed his bacon. But I shrugged it off and trotted over to Siberian Summit for my daily exercise. That’s when the real strangeness began. I found myself face to face with a shadowy figure—a tall, imposing silhouette against the bright Spencerville sky. It was something I had never seen in our perfect little town.

“Who’s there?” I barked, trying to sound brave, but the words stuck with a tremor in my throat.

The figure dissolved into thin air, leaving behind a chilling echo, “He waits in the shadows where the woods meet the summit.”

Maybe it was just someone playing a prank, I thought. But as I made my way through Silver Siberian Summit, I couldn’t shake the unease. I grew more watchful, perhaps a tad more stubborn, insisting I’d figure out what was going on. You know, standard bulldog determination.

With the tennis ball securely clamped between my teeth, I ventured into White Westie Woods. This area had always been a joyful place, filled with the scent of pine and the sound of twigs snapping under paws. But today, it felt different, almost alive, watching me as closely as I was watching it.

I paused just long enough to consider retreating when suddenly, the clouds rolled in, dark and foreboding. The shadows seemed to stretch towards me like ghostly fingers, a whisper echoing, “Time is but a mere illusion here, brave one.”

Despite not liking the rain one bit, I couldn’t turn back now. I had to find Fat Russell, the old pal with whom I had shared countless tennis balls and stolen chicken dinners. The deeper into the woods I went, the denser the trees became, and the darker the atmosphere grew.

At last, I stumbled upon a curious clearing. There, under an ancient oak, sat Fat Russell, but something was different. His normally playful eyes were somber, his gruff demeanor subdued.

“What’s the matter, Russell?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

Russell glanced up, his eyes reflecting the gloom of the clouds. “Sammy, I’ve seen something. Something terrifying.”

My curiosity heightened, and so did my determination to uncover the truth. “What did you see?” I queried, nudging the tennis ball toward him in a gesture of encouragement.

“The shadows, Sammy,” he said, “They’ve come for us, whispering about the final journey.”

While I wasn’t particularly superstitious, something about Russell’s tone sent shivers down my spine. He’d never been one for ghost stories or tall tales. This was different—it was real.

But even so, part of me wondered if the shadows were more than just malevolent forces. Maybe, just maybe, they were harbingers of something profound, a hint about the nature of Spencerville itself. After all, happiness must coexist with a touch of mystery, right?

Fueled by a mix of bravery and curiosity, we bounded back to town, ready to share our tales and uncover the secrets this nearly perfect place had whispered to us. And in that moment, as the familiar streets of Spencerville came into view, I realized one thing: that even in a world where shadows lurk and mysteries abound, at least I had my friends, and eventually, I’d have mom-and-dad once more.

Plus, there were vanilla cookies to look forward to.