Hey Ma & Pa,

Just a quick update from your favorite storyteller, Coach. Tackled the concrete jungle to deliver Christmas cheer alongside my elf buddy, Jingles. We sparked joy, reunited families, and steered clear of vacuums. Nothing beats a bulldog on a mission! Now, back to Spencerville for some sun and easy livin’. Big city’s got nothing on our sandy shores. Give my regards to the reindeer!

Happy Howl-idays,
Coach Man-doo 🎄🐾

Listen to the story here

Oh, strap yourselves in, folks. Coach here. Yeah, the one and only bulldog with the underbite that could open a can of reindeer chow. So, where was I? Right. Now, every bulldog has his day, but in Spencerville, it’s Christmas every day, at least for me when I’m with my elf pal, Jingles.

So, we’re up at the North Pole, where the snow is as endless as the squeaker in my favorite toy – seriously, that thing is immortal. Jingles has got this worried wrinkle in his brow, which is really saying something considering we’re practically drowning in merriment up there. He’s missing the twinkle that usually has him lighting up like the star on top of a Christmas tree.

Well, Jingles is homesick, see? He’s been working his elfin fingers to the bone on toy trains, nutcrackers, you name it. And he’s gotten to thinking about his family in the big city, about how they’re probably gathered around the table, not noticing his empty seat.

So, I do what any self-respecting bulldog would do. I plop my hefty self down, give him the ol’ eyes—the ones that say, ‘buck up, buckaroo’—and I convince him we’re gonna bring a slice of North Pole cheer right smack dab to his family’s urban doorstep. Easy, right?

We hitch a ride on a sleigh (cargo class, mind you – always a tight fit for the bulldog physique), and next thing you know, we’re navigating the concrete jungle. It’s taller than Siberian Summit and noisier than a pack of Huskies at Labradoodle Lake. But hey, Coach is in the city now, baby.

In true Christmas spirit, chaos follows. I’m talking misunderstandings with those street-corner Santas, a merry chase through a department store that leaves tinsel in places I’d rather not say, and Jingles babbling about hot dog stands like they’re fine Pup-Tizers dining.

Oh, and the vacuum. The monster followed me all the way from Spencerville to the big city, in the form of traffic whooshing and street cleaners roaring. Remember my not so secret glee over crushed water bottles? Imagine that joy utterly vacuumed out of me.

But it’s not all dodging taxis and avoiding pretzels like they’re the plague. Despite the less-than-ideal menu, the city’s got some wonders, like sprawling fire hydrants and the head tilts you get from city folks as they try to decipher my festive elf and gruff bulldog duo.

Ends up, the city’s filled with people who’ve forgotten how to look up from their phones and see the holidays around them. Jingles and I, we do that thing that the best of buddies do. We plot, we plan, we execute. Operation: Festive Cheer is a go. And this Coach, as much as he loves sunbathing, can light up a street with holiday glow like the best of them.

Tinsel in my collar, drool freezing before it hits the ground, we find Jingles’ family. And let me tell you, the reunion is like something out of those holiday movies—choirs singing, hugs all around, and even I get a few pats that could warm the coldest of Bulldog Bay nights.

By the time we head back to the Pole, Jingles is all smiles and stories. And I – I’m just happy to help, really. It’s what we Spencerville types do. We look out for our own. And now? Now, Jingles’ family has an open invite to come sled down Siberian Summit with the best of ’em. And Coach? Well, Coach has a bottle to crush and a nap in the sun to take. Because between you and me, city life’s great, but in Spencerville, every day’s a beach day, and there are no vacuums or pretzels to ruin the mood.

So, here’s to friends, family, and finding joy wherever you can sniff it out. Happy holidays, or whatever it is you celebrate — Coach is out.

The End.