Hey Mom! Just a quick update: I helped my human find her lost keys, led a successful squirrel chase, and discovered a hidden toy stash. Life’s busy but fun here!

Love, Princess Rose Marie

Imagine, if you will, a place of idyllic wonder, a town where the heart beats a little softer, the grass is greener, and the air smells perpetually of fresh kibble. I speak of Spencerville, the twilight town of our pawprint dreams, where I, a modest Chihuahua of tan hue and a faint sprinkle of white around the face, continue my loquacious existence. My esteemed title here is Princess Rose Marie, but for simplicity, you may call me Rosie.

Spencerville is an otherworldly utopia where we dogs can roam, play, and engage in human-like frivolities while awaiting a grand reunion with our beloved human companions. Now, don’t fret about our temporary separation; we have a cosmic assurance that our humans will come find us here, and until then, there’s plenty of adventure.

Why, just the other morning, I took a leisurely walk along Golden Retriever River. An aptly named watercourse that sparkles like the coats of its namesakes. It’s a delightful spot for contemplation unless, of course, someone nearby decides to plunge into the golden currents—swimming! Perish the thought. Swimming is as appealing to me as a wool coat in the summer, and that’s a fact.

My Spencerville routine involves frequent visits to Canine Couture Clothing, for even a small deerhead-shaped Chihuahua must look presentable. You’d be astonished by the number of designer blankets available. Ah, blankets—my greatest indulgence. I gather them with precision, stacking them just so, only to burrow into the soft sanctuary I’ve constructed. It’s an art, really, and one I perform with considerable aplomb.

After one such retail therapy session, I decided it was high time I enjoyed some culinary delights. Enter Fetch-N-Bites, a bistro that boasts the best French fries and spaghetti this side of the cosmos. As always, I was mindful of table manners—truth be told, I’m a bit of a connoisseur. Not to harp on human cuisine, but what could possibly compare to the bliss of a well-seasoned French fry?

But Spencerville isn’t all leisure, oh no. There are responsibilities, small hazards, and moments of valor so arch that they seem plucked from the pages of canine myth. Take, for instance, the afternoon Cocoa, a bigger brown mixed breed, found herself cornered by an overzealous feline. Now, I have a peculiar relationship with my siblings and friends—I adore them in theory but find interacting closely somewhat overrated. Nonetheless, on seeing Cocoa in jeopardy, I couldn’t help but transform into a paragon of protection.

With a bark as mighty as a lion’s roar—relatively speaking, of course—I charged. My ferocity sent the feline interloper scurrying, and I was left to bask in Cocoa’s relieved bark of thanks. I gave a nod, modest and magnanimous, before returning to my kingdom of blankets.

Yet, my favorite moments are still when I can lay in the sun, either at the beach or the park, just reminiscing about my Mom and the odd adventures we shared on Earth. I muse over the times when I’d sit by her side in the car during drives, smiling the grin she loved so dearly. The grin that would appear as if by magic whenever she said, “Rosie, can you smile for Mommy?”

In truth, my days in Spencerville are quite full and satisfying, with less of those dreadful loud noises, and certainly no rain to ruin a perfectly good sunbathing session. Even the baths, those insufferable rituals of cleanliness, are but distant nightmares here.

And so, I, Rosie—loyal, affectionate, intelligent, and calm—meander through Spencerville, a place where every bone is unburied, every whim catered to, and every dog can relish this magical, peculiar, and delightfully odd half-life.

Until next we meet, dear readers, when another eerie tail—pardon me, tale—shall wag its way into the annals of The Doglight Zone.