Hey Dad,

Just a quick pupdate: your boy Brute joined Santa’s secret service today! 🎅 Took a ride on the mythical Polar Pooch Express, had a tail-waggin’ reunion with Caesar, and for the first time, set my paws on the snowy grounds of the North Pole. 🚂❄ The day was packed with Christmas cheer and family feels – literally the best. Sniff ‘n’ Snack later?

– Brutus Bulldog 🐾🎄

Listen to the story here

I should have known there’d be something special about this Christmas Eve the minute I woke up to the promising scent of eggnog and gingerbread wafting through the air of Spencerville. The place is always a bit magical, but today, it had that extra sparkle – the kind that makes you wag your tail twice as fast.

There I was, Brutus Bulldog, lying on the edge of the bed, watching the festivities from my comfortable spot in North Chihuahua Castle. My human guardians had decorated the halls with more tinsel than a store window at Harrods, and it twinkled like stars in a sky far less smoggy than we’d ever get back on Earth.

Today was no day for sunbathing, not with the snow outside, but it was perfect for something else – an adventure. I’d heard stories of The Polar Pooch Express, and if the rumors around the K9 Kebabs were anything to go by, today would be the day I’d see it with my own bulging eyes.

Waddling my stout frame down the grand staircase, I greeted my buddy Rocky with a slobbery lick. The two of us held auditions for the title of ‘Mayor of Mischief’ on a regular basis, and today, I had a feeling we’d win by unanimous vote.

With a scratch behind Rocky’s ear, I shared the buzz. “It’s happening today, mate. The Polar Pooch Express to the North Pole. Fancy it?”

His tail wag echoed like applause in Shih Tzu Stadium.

Out we ambled, into the Lower Golden Gate Gardens, our paws crunching in the fresh, white snow when we heard it – the chuffing and puffing of the train, a melody more welcoming than the dinner bell at Sniff ‘n’ Snack.

There it stood, grand and gleaming, the most tremendous thing on tracks, with a conductor in a bright red cap leaning out. “All aboard for the wondrous North Pole!” he bellowed.

The thing about us bulldogs is we’re built rather close to the ground, so we don’t so much hop as we do hoist ourselves into things. It took a not-so-graceful scramble, but I managed to heave my carcass onto the train just as it was about to lurch away.

“Y’know, Rocky, I’ve never seen a conductor with a wagging tail before. You?”

Turns out, the conductor was none other than Caesar, my dear brother. He snorted in that familiar way that I took as a ‘no’, and with a wag of his short, curly tail directed us to our seats.

The ride was a jingle of joy, the landscapes outside whipping by in a frenzied mash of white and the occasional blur of a snow-covered tree. Inside, the air hummed with yips and barks of all canines enjoying the ride, some sipping on puppuccinos, others with noses pressed eagerly against the cool glass.

As we neared our frosty destination, excitement nipped at my ears. You see, a bulldog might not care much for the cold, but my heart felt warmer than if I’d eaten a Doggy Donut.

The Polar Pooch Express didn’t disappoint. I’d finally set paw on the North Pole, a sight that’d make even the most stubborn bulldog believe in holiday enchantments.

I turned to Caesar and with all the affection of a brother, gave him a gruff nuzzle. “Best Christmas Eve ever.”

And it wasn’t because of the snow or the train. It was spending it with my Spencerville family, with the promise of tomorrow’s cuddles and popcorn from my endearing guardians.

That night, under the sparkle of the Northern Lights, I realized Spencerville wasn’t just a place. It was our Christmas-loving, snow-frolicking, affectionate adventure, and it beat sunbathing any day of the week.

The End.