Hey Mom,

Conquered the heist of a lifetime at The Barking Boutique with my tail-waggin’ crew – swiped the Beanbones right under their noses without ruffling a single fur. We toasted to victory with a symphony of squeaks under the stars. Just another day in the life of Gus the Destroyer, eh? 😎🐾

-Gus the Destroyer

Listen to the story here

So there I was, lounging on the curb of the Choco Chihuahua Castle, the tan of my coat practically glowing under the Spencerville sun, all casual-like, but inside? Inside, I was as alert as a squirrel at a bird feeder. A heist, my dear humans, is not a walk in the dog park – especially not the one I’ve been planning with my pack of four-legged masterminds. And it’s not just any heist, it’s the purloining of the century, the stealing of the Beanbone toys from The Barking Boutique, the very place where dreams are made and sold at prices as outrageous as a cat refusing catnip.

“Focus, Gus,” I tell myself. It’s a mantra because let’s be honest, a dog’s mind is like a tennis ball launcher – it’s going all over the place, and really fast. But here’s the thing: amongst the furred and the brave, I’m what you’d call the “brains of the operation.” I had to be, considering that my charm cannot, unfortunately, turn locks nor disable alarms.

We got Jasper, the lightning-fast Greyhound who can zip in and out of a room like it’s as easy as a nap in Greyhound Grove. Then there’s Lulu, the cat with more stealth than a ninja on a silk pillow. And the twins, Bonnie and Clyde, two chihuahuas who may have the bodies the size of squirrels, but the hearts – oh, boy – hearts bigger than the Yellow Tan Dalmatian Desert we once crossed together.

Our rendezvous point? Furrific Fried Chicken. Because nothing – and I mean nothing – keeps a team as motivated as the promise of crispy, golden, deep-fried… sorry, where was I? Right, the heist.

Now, to get inside The Barking Boutique without raising tails, I had Jasper create a diversion. He’s running around chasing his tail, throwing a fit about “THE BALL IS GONE! MY BALL IS GONE!” Brilliant acting, really, Oscar-worthy performance. Everyone’s eyes are on him, and I’m thinking if he isn’t using this talent for the Spencerville Annual Play, it’s a waste.

Meanwhile, Lulu has slinked into The Groom Room next door. She looks like she’s about to get the spa treatment of her nine lives with those cucumber slices over her eyes – it’s almost too purrfect a disguise. Bonnie and Clyde, the dynamic duo, scamper by, causing a minor, adorable commotion with their barked rendition of The Great Catsby, and in the ensuing chaos, I charge towards my destination with the stealth of a… well, a bulldog. Yep, I own it.

So, I’m in. I’m actually in. The smell of rubber and rope toys is a symphony to my snout. But then, I spot it: the vacuum cleaner. The beastly, horrid, dystopian monster lurking in the shadows like the worst kind of villain. And there I am, frozen, my stream of consciousness now a babbling brook of “nope, nope, nope,” but I can’t back down. Not when every paw step has been leading to this.

Taking a deep breath that smells suspiciously like chicken from across the street, I muster every ounce of courage in my bulldog body, my stubby legs carrying me towards the vault of Beanbones. The twins wait for me with tiny getaway bags, their eyes wide with anticipation. We load up, as quick as you can say “belly rub,” and we’re out.

The escape? Oh, it’s as smooth as unsalted peanut butter. Jasper breaks his faux heartache long enough to give us a four-paw escort out of there. Lulu rejoins us, smelling slightly of lavender, and together, we dash into the serenity of the nearby lake.

As the stars twinkle like kibble in the sky, we share our loot. Each toy squeak is a victory note, a toast to one wild romp of a heist. And yeah, even though we miss our humans like a buried bone, we know this is Spencerville – where every pup has a story, and every caper is a chance to wag tails and make memories until the day we’re reunited with our beloved two-legged friends.

“Gus, you sly dog,” I tell myself. Because it’s true; I’m the English Bulldog who masterminded the greatest heist in pet history, stubborn perseverance and all. And as I lay there, Beanbone toy triumphantly clenched in my jaw, surrounded by the best pack a dog could ask for, I think of the world beyond the twinkling Spencerville lights, confident, knowing, that together we’re more than okay – we’re legends.

The End.