Hey Mom and Dad,

Just thought you’d like to know that your Bear Cub has become a bit of a local celeb in Spencerville. Trading my collar for a halo, I’ve been volunteering at the salon (note to self: stick to digging), and I’m now soothing canine souls at the wellness center. Dreams of Boxer Beach remind me of you. Proud yet? Miss you loads.

Big fuzzy hugs,
Vincent

Listen to the story here

When you’re a dog of a certain distinction, like me, you’d think Spencerville would be another walk in the park. Except, here in the after-eternity, I’m kind of a big deal. Oh, don’t get me wrong, every pet here is treated like royalty – it’s just that some of us have that extra ruff—err, I mean, fluff.

You see, Spencerville is the place we pets find ourselves when the final vet visit turns into a one-way ticket to the clouds. Here, I’ve ditched the ear-cleaners for good, and my only worry is whether I’ll choose the savory sushi from The Cat’s Meow or go for the daily catch at Pup-Tizers. Tough life, huh?

Let me set the scene for you: There I was, Vincent, lounging majestically beside the Golden Retriever River, gazing at the ebb and flow of the glistening waters, pondering my next move. Big Vinnie, they called me – not because I had issues with personal space but for the grandeur I carried, paw pad to shoulder blade.

Our legend speaks of a quest, not just for boundless fun, but for personal growth – a cosmic chance to become the best version of ourselves. And who am I to turn my wet nose up at self-improvement? I decided I’d become the epitome of a Good Pet, a shining example of canine chivalry.

It was on a serene Spencesday afternoon – because here, every day is dedicated to Old Man Spencer, the patron saint of lost tennis balls – that I decided to embark on my journey to perfection. And I had the perfect starting point: my modest obsession with cleanliness. I thought I’d start by volunteering at The Dapper Dog Salon. Picture this: Me, a behemoth of fur and slobber, having a paw at primping poodles and sprucing up schnauzers.

My first client was a tiny terrier with an underbite that could open a can of dog food all by itself. Lifting her onto the grooming table, I gave my teammates the kind of knowing nod that said, “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” Spoiler alert: I did not have this.

Turns out, my paws – skilled as they may be in digging up the most delectable backyard treasures – weren’t quite made for the delicate art of canine coiffure. The little terrier emerged looking less like a Westminster winner and more like she’d gone three rounds with a lawn mower.

But if you think I tucked my tail between my legs, well, you haven’t met Newfoundland Vinnie. I just wagged my way over to Woof and Whisker Wellness Center, where I proclaimed my newfound mission to support the emotional well-being of my fellow tail-waggers. Personal growth, remember?

Now, I must confess, deep down I was craving my Pickle toy stuffed with treats. But as the saying goes, “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” or so they thought. I embraced every gnome-shaped stress toy and rubber chicken as if they were my long-lost Pickle. Who knew I had such a flair for playful therapy?

There’s a dash of irony in my tale. For a dog that never cared to be the star of the dog park, I somehow found my purpose in making others shine. And every time I think of my human parents, I glimpse the Boxer Beach horizon and know they’d be proud. A bit of drool never hurt anyone, right?

If you’re thinking this is all sunshine and wagging tails, you should know: The road to being a Good Pet is paved with many an overturned food bowl. And as I rest my head on a velvet pillow at the Groom Room’s post-spa relaxation pod, I dream of the day I’ll be reunited with my humans, telling them all about Spencerville and my escapades.

But ’til then, I’ll be here, learning, growing, and maybe perfecting the art of the fur trim. Because, in Spencerville, we’re all works in progress, striving to be the Good Pet we were always meant to be – one paw step at a time.

The End.