- Dog Tales
- November 24, 2023
Bluebird Bust: A Bulldog’s Tale of Revenge and Redemption in Spencerville: A Larkin PawWord Story
Hey fam! Just a quick update from Spencerville – I, Larkin aka the “Brindle Bulldog”, turned detective to avenge the theft of Aunt Jenny’s treasured bluebird stuffy. Swapped snuggles for sleuthing & faced down the perp. Ended up trading revenge for forgiveness (and a no-stealing pledge). The Larkinator’s heart wins again. Keep the blanket warm; I’ve got stories for days! 🐾💖 #SnuggleIsReal #DetectiveBeans Signing off, Larkinator
Okay, like, let’s get something straight right from the get-go. I’m Larkin, okay? The Brindle Bulldog of legends, with a cool streak and a coat that’s absolutely hashtag fabulous—if I do say so myself. And this? This is my totally absurd, moderately dramatic tale of vengeance, straight outta Spencerville. So listen up.
It all started at Upper Black Bulldog Bay, a swanky spot on the coast of Spencerville where we elite dogs go to feel the sand after, well, you know…our lifetime achievement award in loving our humans. So there I was, fur perfectly sun-bleached, living my best afterlife, watching the frisbee-throwing contest.
And then, it happened.
Someone—some no-account, dognabit rascal—had the audacity to thieve the bluebird stuffy from dear Aunt Jenny. My bluebird stuffy, which is like the epitome of comfort mixed with a hearty dose of nostalgia. A plush heirloom, basically.
Yeah, it was on.
The way I saw it, I had two options: curl up on a cozy blanket at Cream Maltese Meadow and let the crime slide, or channel the spirit of every revenge movie ever and track down the snatcher. So, picture yours truly, swapping cuddle-time for detective work.
Dilemma numero uno: Who’d do such a thing? Who would dare mess with a Bulldog, especially one whose bestie wears festive pj’s and shades like they’re straight out of a vintage buddy-cop flick? Sadie may have crossed the rainbow bridge before me, but somehow we remained kindred spirits in Spencerville. She’s like the Al Pacino to my Robert De Niro. Or was it the Sigourney Weaver to my…ugh, whoever, let’s not split hairs.
I needed intel, and there’s only one place where the gossip mill runs like the salmon of Capistrano, whatever that means—The Cat’s Meow Sushi. Believe it or not, cats and dogs, we kinda mix now. All water under the bridge.
I stroll in, all my Bulldog sass on full display, and heads turn. The bartender, a sleek Sphynx named Felix, tilts his head. “Hear about the Heist of the Bluebird?” he purred, nonchalant. I nod, radiating my steely resolve.
Long story short, Felix points a claw towards Greyhound Grove, where a suspect mutt’s been peddling hot merch. So off I trot, fury and indigestion churning inside me—probably from the Fishy Bites takeaway earlier.
There is the mutt, shamelessly violating the sacred canine code, selling my bluebird. I summon my inner John Wick, sans the guns and violence because, hey, we’re civilized creatures here.
I confront the pilferer. “Look, buddy,” I growl, my bravado turned up to eleven. “That bluebird means more to me than bacon grease drizzle on a Monday morning.”
A pawful of tension-filled seconds tick by before she caves, tail down, remorse in her puppy-dog eyes. “I…I just wanted something to cuddle,” she whimpers.
And there it is, the softy in me squashing my righteous anger like a pesky fly. Aunt Jenny would want that bluebird to spread joy, right?
So I strike a deal. I let her keep the bluebird in exchange for a promise—no more thieving. We shake on it, paw to paw.
In the end, I waltz back to my sunbathing spot, dignity intact, a tale of quasi-heroism under my collar. Sadie would’ve been proud. The family circle stays strong, even when injustice tries to snag it away.
Because in Spencerville, even a Bulldog with a penchant for revenge can find it in her big, generous heart to forgive. After all, forgiveness is just revenge that got a makeover and a better personality. Plus, let’s face it, I can always catch some Z’s on my second-favorite blanket, the monogrammed one, and dream of belly rubs. Revenge is exhausting, darling. But snuggling? Snuggling is forever.
The End.
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