Hey Mom,

Had a wild night investigating ghostly howls with Russ and Millie by the haunted groomers! Turns out, Spencerville’s history is still barking – met Mayor Spencer’s spirit, aka Dad! Gained wisdom and some ghostly chills. Back home safe, with another paw-some tale to chew on. 🐾 Spooky licks,

Tanner

Listen: The twinkling in my earnest eyes caught a different glint one spooky Spencerville eve. There I was, Tanner, strutting down Western Labradoodle Lake with Fat Russell rolling by my side like a brindle boulder and Millie, with her dainty paws, tapping a Morse code for “Careful, things are about to get eerie.” It was a night to remember, or rather, one I’d give my favorite chew toy to forget.

Now, I never much saw the appeal in ghosts and goblins, always figured they were stories to keep us pups from sniffing too far into human affairs. But that evening, the air was thick with something beyond the aroma of Pupsicle Palace’s finest. We sauntered, yes, sauntered – because that’s what you do when you’re unaware that your evening’s about to bob tail into the depths of doggy dread.

We reached the edge of town, where the neon lights of The Fetching Deli grew dim and the landscapes yawned into dusky silhouettes. You see, even in Spencerville, a paradise for pets past their ninth life, darkness could fall like a blanket, snuffing out the cheerfulness of the neon bones and catnip stars.

That’s when we heard it: a howl, not the kind you sing to the moon in joy, but one that curls your paws and sets your fur on edge. Not even a taste of the finest cheese could distract me from the shiver running down my spine. Fat Russell froze, rolls and all. Millie’s cavalier heart skipped a beat. The lake beside us, still as a photograph, began to ripple, not with the touch of Retriever River’s friendly waves, but with something… other.

“Let’s fetch ourselves outta here,” Fat Russell’s jowls trembled when he spoke. But Millie, bless her brave soul, whispered, “Adventure, Tanner. It’s what we’re made of.”

We were three canines in a canine dalliance with the supernatural. Into the brush we ventured, our tails were more question marks than exclamation points. Russell argued that pugs and bulldogs weren’t made for the horror genre, “We’re comedic relief, you know?” I agreed silently but was propelled by something I couldn’t quite bite.

Then we came upon it – an old, abandoned grooming parlor, ‘The Groom Room,’ the letters hung crooked, and the windows were veiled with dust years thick.

“The tales say it’s haunted,” Millie murmured, “By the ghost of the first mayor, old Shepherd Spencer, the first dog to chase a car into the sky.”

Mayor Spencer? But that’s…

And right as that bowl of kibble toppled in my mind, a specter appeared, flickering like a faulty light bulb, sporting fur groomed eternally, and a bark that rattled the bones of the earth itself.

“You see,” the apparition howled with a wag that could chill your insides, “Spencerville always has a place for its legends, living or dead.”

Fear nibbled at my treats of courage, and with my heart yapping at the gates, I approached the phantom. Because even faced with Spencerville’s eerie side, I remembered – our legends never truly leave.

“Mayor… Dad?” I quivered, but with curiosity poking through the dread like a whisker through a fence.

The ghost of Mayor Spencer, father I have lost then found, barked with a wisdom only a Spencerville specter could. “Tanner, my boy, even in the light of doggy heaven, the night can play tricks. Don’t fear the shadows, live the stories!”

And with that, he vanished, leaving only a howling echo, and the unmistakable scent of Spencer’s favorite treat – celestial bacon, I’d know it anywhere.

We three, the adventurers, the once-scared, skedaddled back to the heart of Spencerville. We’d rolled in the mud of fear but cleaned ourselves off with the soap of curiosity – and it was marvelous.

So, there I sat, in my backyard haven, recalling the events to Lily. “I suppose Spencerville has its own way of teaching us pups,” I chuckled to her and myself, knowing full well that every yip and yap etches our legend deeper into the town’s heart.

And thus, another tale from Tanner, horror hero for a night – believe it or not.

The End.