“Hey Dad, just another regular day for me here in Spencerville. From chasing my time traveling soccer ball to roughhousing with the gang, every moment is an adventure. Count me also as the local hero, standing guard over chicken flavoured ‘treats.’ P.S. Miss you heaps. Woof with love, your boy Jayjay!”

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As I iron my tie for a dreary day at Real Life, I find myself thinking about Jayjay. A mischievous Shepherd lab with a playful streak wider than the Yellow Tan Dalmatian Desert and a heart overflowing with gold that could easily rival the riches of Western Fawn Pug Palace. You see, here in Spencerville, things aren’t always what they seem.

Jayjay, who could defend me from the postman with bone-chilling bark, descended into a fluttery puddle at the mere mention of chicken-flavoured kibble. His weapon of choice for such theatrics: an elaborate slink under the porch that put the best of Broadway to a shame.

But, let’s zoom out a bit. There is a soccer ball, fiendishly well loved, that’s seen far more land than even King Ferdinand himself! From the dewy underbelly of our backyard to the sandy pawscape of Spencerville beach – even through the time portal down at the local dog-park. Yes, you heard it right. A time portal at a public park. But considering we’re in Spencerville, I suspect you’re less castaway by the existence of time portals and more intrigued by parking regulations here.

This ragtag ball, not entirely dissimilar to a certain Doctor’s pocket watch is like a bargain ticket shared mostly between Jayjay and Spencerville’s own four-legged Time Lords. Countless relic runs filled with hours of chasing, leaping and altering course of history with a wag of a tail was not just a leisurely pastime but a canine credo here.

Above all of this, in the sandbox of paradoxes and dimensions, was Jayjay’s doting affection for his siblings. Stepping straight out of some canine melodrama, the gang would engage in play fights, chase each other around with a pigskin, and eventually melt into puddles of warm fluff once the exhaustion kicked in. All under the brightly sunlit backdrop of Spencerville’s grandeur.

As I sit here now, in the drab confines of my cubicle-filled existence, I peek into his world, Spencerville, where pets go on after they finish their bit part in this cosmic theatre. Shaking out his wet fur after a run across East Bulldog Bay, Jayjay gets ready for a gourmet dinner at Pupperoni Pizza, thoughts of reuniting with me waiting patiently in his sparkly brown eyes.

How I wish to put this tie away, step into my trusty car and drive to the park, hoping to catch a glimpse of that familiar jet of fur, or hear echoed amidst the wind, the ring of Jayjay’s collar as he pounces, time and space be damned, to fetch that tattered soccer ball. They say Spencerville is nearly perfect. I say, it is if you’ve got a playful, headstrong dog like Jayjay crafting his legends, there.

The End.

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