Hey Mom,

Just wanted to give you a pup-date from Spencerville – I’m now the top dog here, leading the crew against squirrel invasions and making sure every tail keeps wagging. The humans may have left us in a bit of a ruff spot, but we’ve made it our own paradise. I even run a Michelin-worthy chow service! I miss you, but I’m keeping my nose to the ground and the spirit of our pack alive. Nosy sniffs and tail wags until you’re back.

Yours paw-truly,
Harold The Hound 🐾✨

In my days as the self-appointed sentinel of Spencerville, where I wore my loyalty like the shiny tag on my collar, I’ve seen more sunsets than most. My name’s Harold, by the by. Just Harold. But in this reimagined realm, where no postman dares to tread, I’ve come to realize that the world doesn’t quite spin on the same axis anymore. Not since The Event.

You remember The Event, right? Do forgive an old wolf mix his ramblings, but it’s not every day that the lights of the world flicker out and leave us in the quiet dark. The humans are gone, vanished like treats from my bowl. Yet before you go shedding a tear into your kibble, let me wag my tail to a different tune.

Post-apocalyptic they said it’d be, post-fun they cautioned. Well, they haven’t visited Spencerville, have they? Ah, where streets have no addresses and time is marked by naps and belly rubs.

Our day begins, as it often does, with an escapade, a jolly jaunt into the perils of our new normal. The Groom Room is our rendezvous point today. I have always carried a smidgen of disdain for that place, but circumstances now tie my paws a little differently.

“Bulldog Bay is under threat,” barks Smiley, with the serious lilt of a dog who’s forgotten the feel of a frisbee. And by threat, he means the pesky squirrels have united under a new flag—vegetation. For creatures famously skittish, their new boldness could only mean one thing: they’ve found nuts, and they aren’t sharing.

So I lead, because it’s what I do. We trot through untouched fields and over the Southern Golden Retriever River—whose named irony was not lost on us considering there wasn’t a golden coat in sight. If only those humans had seen us now, bridging the worlds, they’d have second-guessed every “Bad Dog” they ever uttered.

We reach Bulldog Bay, the silver-blue dance of the waters still inviting, but there’s little time for leisurely lapping at the banks. Our onslaught was strategic; George gave us dignity, Smiley lent his irresistible grin, and I, with all the solemnity I could muster up, let loose the howl. An uproar of dogs facing an army of acorn-clutching rodents.

Yet as we stood there, amidst the chaos of chases and the whispered stratagems of the oaks, we couldn’t help but miss our humans. A scratch behind the ear, words of encouragement quietly murmured, the gentle laughter at our playful toils—these were our true treats.

Our victory was swift and decisive, much like my decision to avoid bath time. The squirrels scuttled away, leaving the nuts as a peace offering or, perhaps, forgetting them in their haste.

After the thrill, the hunger pangs made themselves known, leading us with wagging tails to Chow Down Chow Chow. With no humans to order for us, we’ve taken the liberty of self-service. George leans naturally towards the managerial role, while Smiley keeps the patrons laughing and I… well let’s say I ensure the place retains its Michelin standards. No dog leaves with their belly not satisfied, a wag in their step, and a story to roll over to.

Now, I settle in my usual spot at Pup ‘n’ Go Taco Joint, reminiscing in the long shadows of the setting sun. Absentmindedly, I paw at the ground, wondering when my humans will return, but finding solace in the reality of here and now. An epiphany, if you will, dawning on my yellow eyes brighter than any morning sun.

I muse with a playful nip at the air that Spencerville is more than a haven, it’s a testament to the love carried in every wag, every bark. The humans might have intertwined their fate with some grand tapestry unknown, but we’ll maintain ours, our Spencerville, a near-perfect patch of this spinning marble—until the grand reunion that only stars dare dream of.

But for now, there’s the quiet prelude to another adventure. Spencerville sleeps, cradled in the whispers of loyal beasts, and I curl up under the twinkling sky, one eye closed, one keen and watchful—a guardian until the break of a new day.

The End.