Hey there, human! Catch this: ’twas my debut Yuletide in Spencerville and the place was crackling with enchantment. Became the party’s heart, fixing art and mending hearts with a tail-wind of forgiveness. Baked scents, wagging tails, and Milo’s frame-up as a festive chewer. Ended up wrapping up the night with stars and stories – total doggo delight. Stay pawsome! 🐾 – Graci

Listen to the story here

Well, it was to be my first Christmas in Spencerville, and I tell you, the air buzzed with a sort of magic that even a skeptical old girl like me couldn’t deny. I awoke in my cozy little bed, stretched my limbs, and gave a discreet sniff. Christmas, I pondered. The same festive pageantry, the same snow-kissed roofs, only this time, I’d play the part of both guest and host. No Ellie, no familiar weight of her hand on my back, but oh, the aromas of Fetch-N-Bites roasting something mouthwatering was enough to make even the most forlorn soul wag their tail.

With a habitual wink, I sauntered down the staircase, my claws clicking lightly against the wood. There’s a certain decorum one must adhere to, even when one is, ostensibly, residing in the canine version of what humans call paradise.

South Siberian Summit stood bathed in a light so soft it would have been indecent to gaze upon it too long, and as for Brown Boxer Beach, let’s just say it wore the winter chill like a regal cloak. My friends, Milo and Luna, awaited my arrival, their breath visible puffs in the crystalline air.

“Graci, you old softy. Can’t believe you actually showed up,” Milo greeted me with his usual irreverence.

“Good morning to you too, you scrappy scoundrel,” I retorted with affection, my eyes warming at the sight of him. Luna simply nodded, her elegance nonpareil, saving her words like precious coins.

We trotted off to our customary haunt, Tail Waggers, where the scents of baked treats mingled with the sound of merriment. Here was where the heart of Christmas in Spencerville lay, in the companionship of friends and the shared anticipation of joy.

Today, though, something was amiss. The Furry Friends Art Gallery had planned a grand unveiling of its Christmas exhibit, yet the atmosphere was tense, the tension thick enough to chew on. It appeared there had been a minor scandal – someone had nibbled the corner of the centerpiece artwork, a grand illustration of Spencerville in the height of yuletide revelry.

The prime suspect? Why, Milo, of course. His penchant for mischief was well-documented, and here we were, peering at the unfortunate artwork, trying to piece together the unacceptable act.

“It wasn’t me,” Milo declared, though his eyes darted more than usual.

“Milo,” I said, my voice level, “Christmas is about honesty, about owning up to our acts of indiscretion. It’s time to find that spirit of generosity within you, my friend.”

After a moment’s contemplation, which I might say lent him an almost noble mien, Milo confessed. “I only meant to taste it!”

Forgiveness? Well, it came as it always does – with tails wagging and snouts nuzzling. Generosity saw us pledging to repair the artwork together.

And the true spirit of Christmas? It resided in our gregarious little party as we spent the rest of the day at Tail Waggers, sharing tales and watermelon slices – sans lemons, thank you very much – until the stars winked above Spencerville, affirming that every dog, every creature, has their day. Even in the afterglow, where time seems both an eternity and a heartbeat.

So here’s to Christmas, the grandest ruckus of them all, and to the lessons we carry in our hearts – may they be as light as Luna’s gait and as enduring as Milo’s misadventures.

The End.

Share This Story: