Hey Mom & Dad,

Spencerville’s festive, but I miss you. Turns out, I’ve been a hero, comforter, and jolly jester in our family – accidentally rescued the ring, snuggled away stormy fears, and shredded Christmas joy. Met a Border Collie guru, Clarence, who showed me my tail-wags matter. Stars are out, but the brightest are those we kindle in each other’s hearts. Merry Christmas!

✨ Goosey 🐾

Listen to the story here

In Spencerville, where the chew toys bloom perennially and kibble falls from the sky like manna, I, Lucy, have been feeling a tad bit blue. Quite the statement for a Petit Basset Griffon Vendeen, no? Oh, don’t get me wrong, it’s a dog’s dream here, with hydrants in every flavor and mailmen who don’t sprint. But even in this canine utopia, one can’t help but pine for those left behind, especially on this snowy Christmas Eve.

It was when the moon dolloped the sky with its creamy glow that I found myself at Whiskers and Wings, staring into a steaming cup of Paws-A-Latte. I sighed, the kind of sigh that says, ‘I have deep, philosophical thoughts.’ In reality, I was thinking about chicken — specifically, how much I missed savoring it with my humans.

“Rough night?” a voice asked.

I turned to see a spry Border Collie with a glint in his eye that suggested he knew more than he let on. He wore a rather kitschy bow tie, which, under normal circumstances, might have evoked a chuckle. But not tonight.

“It’s complicated,” I muttered.

“Let’s take a little walk,” he suggested with a wag of his tail, which seemed to have its own strange magnetism.

What followed was no ordinary stroll. This fellow — called Clarence, as I came to know — had some sort of mojo that peeled back the veil of the present, revealing ripples of joy that had emanated from yours truly in the past.

First stop: my backyard, where a hole I had dug led to an unlikely but fortuitous rescue of my human’s lost ring, a family heirloom I had inadvertently unearthed along with a rather impressive collection of bones.

Then, a vignette from a thunderous night played before me, where my persistent snuggling (and yes, maybe a little bit of drooling) had calmed the tears of my youngest human, her fears of storms quelled by my steadfast presence.

We even peeked in on a Christmas past, as shreds of festive wrapping paper dotted the living room — my doing, of course. I saw the laughter and light in my human’s eyes, their voices merging into that familial symphony that spoke of home.

“Look at all you’ve done, Lucy,” Clarence said, his voice a warm nuzzle against my ear. “You’ve been more than a pet; you’re a stitch in the fabric of their lives.”

As we traipsed through my highlights, my tail began to wag of its own accord. Attachment to my humans welled up like a well-seasoned stew, rich and comforting.

We ended our jaunt on Brindle Brown Boxer Beach, the breeze carrying echoes of Sprinkles’ bark, the terrier mix who once shared my adventures. And while I’d always known I’d frolic with him again, tonight had given me a glimpse of the sublime tapestry we’d woven with our human family.

Clarence nudged me with his snout, a sly grin on his canine face. “Cheer up, Lucy. You’ve had quite the impact, haven’t you?”

And so there I sat, the whimsical hound, my heart now aglow, watching the stars twinkle like the very sparkles of life I had gifted others. In the harmony of Spencerville, I found the perfect pitch — the din of disheartenment replaced by a sonorous pawse of appreciation for a life well-lived and loved.

Not a bad realization for a Christmas Eve. Not bad at all.

The End.