Hey Mom! Just a quick pup-date: played the hero in today’s adventure by cleverly reuniting Daisy and her lost ball, sniffed out the tastiest treat stash under the sofa, and ended the day with a sunset walk where I made a new friend (another squirrel watcher like me)! Feeling pawsome! ❤️ – Lulu Bird

Now, let me tell you the tale about the time I got myself into a bit of a pickle here in the paradise known as Spencerville. They call me Lulu, but some affectionate folks know me as Bird, B-Bird Boo, and Lovie Dovie amongst others. I’m an English Bulldog, brindle and white, if you must picture me proper, and I have been told I’m affectionately chubby. One might say I’m beautiful, and I wouldn’t argue too much with that. But that’s neither here nor there.

I reckon you’ve heard of The Dogshank Redemption. No? It’s this here story about redemption, paws pressed into the dust with the solemn determination of a stubborn Bulldog. In a town like Spencerville — where an ol’ girl like me can indulge in Jolly balls and the finest cookies this side of the Rainbow Bridge — it ain’t too often that a dog’s accused of what she didn’t do.

It all started one sunny afternoon. The paws of justice fumbled when I was accused of barkin’ up the wrong tree down in Collie Canyon. Seems someone claimed I’d chewed the tail right off the Mayor’s flamingo — a stuffed plaything mind you, not a living one. It was a falsehood taller than a Great Dane on stilts.

Now more about me: I’m a Bulldog of substantial intelligence, playfulness, and a touch of the stubborn, a trait us Bulldogs wield like an artist’s brush. My heart’s bigger than my bite, as I always say. And while I may have done a bit of gnawin’ in my day (especially on vacuums and other house pests like ’em), I ain’t no criminal.

There I was, wrongfully locked up in East Pug Palace, tasting a bitter portion of injustice. My cellmate was a shaggy miscreant by the name of Pupcake, a Shepherd mix who could tell a tale or two from before her gears went a-spinnin’.

Well, you see, a dog’s gotta do what a dog’s gotta do. So, I plotted my escape, paw by paw. Lucky for me, my experience with wagons and strollers meant I had an ease with wheels and things that roll. I constructed what one might call a rolling contraption out of bits and bobs — an admirably waggin’ apparatus if I do say so myself, sure to outpace any feline pursuit.

And then, the day came, just as bright as a freshly dug up bone. I had the help of my friends, Jingo, the chocolate-hued Pit Bull mix, and Merle, the dashing Chihuahua, who distracted the guards with their charm and wit. Bobbie Jo, my beloved friend and human accomplice, had somehow gotten word and planned a clandestine rendezvous by Bulldog Bay, complete with my signature combo of cookies and Jolly ball.

I reckon it was quite the sight — me and my conspiracy of friends making our daring escape, tails held high. We rolled our way past the Best in Show Photography with a grin that’d make the Cheshire Cat envious, and onward to freedom.

In the end, the truth bit through the legends like a spaniel on a biscuit. The flamingo’s lost tail was found beside the windy backdoor of Pupsicle Palace, the victim of a gust rather than a tail-waggin’ calamity.

So, my tenure at East Pug Palace turned out to be a temporary hiccup, and Spencerville welcomed me back with open paws and forgiving hearts. Here, I continue my reign as the loyal, playful lady that I am, trotting through my days with the knowledge that redemption might just be a flamingo’s tail away.

And don’t you fret, I’ll be here until that fateful day when I’m reunited with Bobbie Jo on the other side of the bridge, long hair blowing in the breeze and happy as a clam with my best friend and all my waggin’ pals.