Hey Mom,

Turns out I’m the hero in a tail-wagging tale of Spooky Spencerville! Went from café latte snob to ghoul-chasing goblin in the Howl-o-ween zone 👻. Miss the cuddles, but at least I’ve got courage (and maybe a ghostly squirrel friend). All’s well that ends with snuggles, right?

Catch you on the fluff side,
Taser 🐾✨

Listen to the story here

Oh, hey there – Taser here, your fluffy guide with an unfortunate name that suggests I might electrocute you. I won’t, I swear – the worst I’d do is probably steal your socks or something equally nefarious. So, let me tell you about this one day in Spencerville that turned my furry little life upside down.

I woke up that morning on a bed too big for a Pom of my stature, stretching my legs that mirrored the twilight sky – which is just a fancy way of saying I’ve got an awesome coat, and I know it. After practicing my ‘regal dog in thought’ pose, which I’ve been told could be on a ‘Dogs of Spencerville’ calendar, I decided to start my day.

Now, I usually love this place. It’s like someone crafted doggy heaven and forgot to put in any of those nasty vacuum cleaners. But that day, I sensed something was off as I trotted towards Bow Wow Bistro for my usual café au lait and squirrel watching session.

The streets seemed… whispery. Not that streets normally whisper, but you get what I mean – the vibe was all weird.

I chalked it up to maybe the chef at Ruff-n-Ready experimenting with ghost pepper hotdogs again, and continued my strut to Western Husky Hill – a great place if you dig dramatic panoramas and the occasional howling contest. But instead of the usual wagging tails, I found an eerie silence and a strange fog swirling around like an unpaid extra trying too hard for a role in a doggie horror flick.

Feeling a tad nervous, I clutched my Porcupine toy tighter – because obviously, that would protect me from, you know, the fog. As I braved forward, I sensed shadows flickering in the corners of my eyes. Not cool, Spencerville, I thought. Not cool.

The more I walked, the more the fog thickened, and my four-legged buddies were nowhere to be seen. Even the Maltese Meadow, which is like the Times Square of Spencerville, was deserted. That’s when the chill set in, and not just because I dislike snow. It was a shiver of foreboding.

Plopping down on a bench in Lower Golden Gate Gardens, I pondered with my best ‘staring in the middle distance’ look. Spencerville had become a ghost town, and here I was, cuddleless and solo – two of my least favorite things.

“Come on, Taser,” I have always told myself, “you’re the pup of action, not just a pretty face with fabulously patterned fur!” So, I set off to The Pawfect Training Center, hoping to find some answers or at least someone to complain to. But, it too was empty, its usual hustle and bustle replaced by… drumroll… more whispering fog.

Then suddenly, “Psst, Taser,” a voice hissed from the fog.

I jumped, ready to bolt. Ghosts? Demons? Unpaid bills? Worse, a bath? My heart raced faster than a Corgi’s legs on a hot pursuit.

“Who’s there?” I growled, trying to sound tougher than a teacup Pom probably should.

Out of the mist emerged my old buddy, a Golden Retriever named Barkley. He looked strange though – his eyes had a haunting glow, and he leant in close enough for me to smell his ‘Doggone Dead’ cologne.

“Taser, you’re in the Howl-o-ween zone,” Barkley said with a grin that gave me the willies. “Every dog who’s been here long enough wanders in. But don’t worry, you get used to the undead squirrel chases and the headless horseman taunting you with treats.”

I blinked. A Howl-o-ween zone, huh? I was about to become the protagonist in a pup’s version of a spooky campfire story. But then it hit me – this was still Spencerville; even the creepy parts couldn’t be that bad.

“You know what, Barkley?” I said, puffing out my chest. “Let’s go chase those undead squirrels. After all, I am Taser, the Pomeranian with the heart of a lion!”

So, we dove into the foggy fray, Porcupine toy forgotten, chasing specters and ghouls, and you know what? It wasn’t all that bad. Sure, it was a touch more ‘bark’ than ‘biscuit,’ but as long as there’s a friend by your side, even a horror-like Howl-o-ween in Spencerville is just another adventure.

And the best part? The cuddling session that followed was to die for – literally. Turns out a brush with the spooky makes for an excellent chill-chaser.

So yeah, that’s the day I realized even a horrifyingly paw-full day in Spencerville is better than a good day anywhere else. Because at the end of it all, it’s just one more story to wag about when mom comes to find me. And until then, I’ll be right here, waiting . . . with a Porcupine toy in my mouth and a new appreciation for the oddly supernatural.

The End.