Hey Mom,

Just a quick tail-wag from Spencerville. Turns out this Rosie’s a holiday heroine, threading laughter through lonesomeness. My cottage rendezvous led to a beachside bash with furry friends and a night singing with joy. No silent nights here – just tales, tails, and a full heart. Princess Rose Marie found her festive spirit amid the paw prints in the snow!

Love,
Rosie 🎄🐾

Listen to the story here

Oh, there I was, Rosie – yes, the heartthrob of Spencerville – in my cozy countryside cottage, decked out for the holidays with twinkling lights that rivaled the stars catering the night sky banquet. My blankets, as ever, my loyal attendants on such frost-kissed evenings, knew well the art of tight snuggling. But, ah, as Yuletide carols filled the air, ’twas the season of togetherness, and yours truly found herself wrapped in the silence of solitude.

I gazed out the window at the winter wonderland. It seemed even Mother Nature had dressed to the nines for the holidays. There I was, momentarily the lonely lass amidst frosted pines and icicle trim. But, fear not! Sad tales are not my cup of tea – well, particularly if that tea is served at Paws-A-Latte.

‘Twas a fine holiday eve when an unexpected cascade of events began. I tip-pawed along Western Husky Hill, my form a little shadow darting past the sleeping giants that were the huskies’ homes, en-route to none other than Brindle Brown Boxer Beach. The brisk wind carried the rich aromas of K9 Kebabs, but my stomach’s siren was silenced by the sounds of revelry carried on the frosty air.

That’s when the magic of a holiday miracle wagged its proverbial tail. Who to my wondering eyes should appear but a troupe of wayward travelers, their furs dusted with the same crystals that adorned the earth. Cocoa, with ears perked like the corners of a mischievous smile; Moxie, with her tortoiseshell twinkle; and Sasha, regally indifferent to the chill, sauntered over as if they were the Marley’s ghosts, ready to teach me the true meaning of Christmas – minus the haunting, of course.

“Cocoa, Moxie, Sasha!” I barked out a holly jolly hello that would have made Santa proud. “What brings you to my neck of Spencerville?”

Cocoa, in her wisdom woven through her whiskers, replied, “Rosie, you’re the talk of the town, haven’t you heard? A festive fête is nothing without the Heart of Spencerville!”

Just like that, from the shadows of an evening that threatened to be a silent night, my sanctuary spots became stages for new memories. The spontaneous reunion unfurled into an extravaganza of beachside bonfires and storytelling, where the flame-kissed logs were not the only things crackling with warmth.

We spun tales under a tapestry of holiday lights, sharing whispered laughs and Culinary Confessions. Even I, would-be secret-keeper of spaghetti whims, unveiled my silent saga of unspoken distastes.

As the night grew older than the last jingle of a bell on a reindeer’s collar, we found warmth in the company and the fireside glow. The joyous embrace of companionship snuggled us tight. Even the night seemed to sing along with our jubilance.

In the glow of holiday togetherness, my cottage – once quiet as a mouse – buzzed with the life of newfound friendships and romances (Sasha, I’m looking at you sneaking glances at the new tabby that purrs like a carol itself).

So, there you have it, a pup not so lonely anymore, with joy woven into every bark and heartbeat. Rosie, the heart, the holiday hound, found the best gift not under a tree but in the warmth of kindred spirits. And isn’t that what legends, holidays, and tales in Spencerville are all about?

The End.

Share This Story: