Hey Mom,

Just finished the Grand Collar Conundrum. Came heartbreakingly close, but Maddie outmaneuvered the dreaded green beans and grabbed victory. She’s got zest that one! I’ve faced snow, sand, and corgis, but those green beans—oh, the drama! Still, every dog has his day, and mine’s coming. Spencerville hasn’t seen the last of Wrigley Roo. 😜🥇🐕

Catch you later,
Wrigley Roo

Right, where to begin then? Ah, at the start I suppose; quite like a race, that is, or at least that’s what Smokey kept prattling on about. But this isn’t about any race. No, it’s about the grand tournament of Spencerville – “The Grand Collar Conundrum,” as the event was cheekily dubbed.

Now, I’m a dog of simple pleasures – sunbeams and peanut butter, my Kong toy, you know my delights – but there’s something about the scent of competition in the crisp Spencerville air that gets my tail a-wagging like a metronome on overdrive. Truth be told, I hadn’t planned to enter the Grand Collar Conundrum. It was that mischievous Maddie who signed me up – said I’d been lounging ‘neath trees a mite too long for my own good.

So, there I was, toeing the starting line of a wickedly devious obstacle course. Castles made of oversized corgis, towering Siberian summits, and sandy stretches reminiscent of dalmatian spots loomed ahead. The objective? To collar the prize, quite literally: a golden circlet hanging like the crown jewels at the finish, just beside Pupperoni Pizza – clever placement for the famished athlete, if you ask me.

Before the proverbial shot could be fired to start us off, Smokey, ever the philosopher, mused, “It’s not about the collar, Wrigley, but the chase.” I contemplated this, my ear perking up in thought, but I’d have none of it. “What’s a chase without spoils to claim?” I barked back, the taste for triumph rising within me.

Now, with the quiet hum of spectators filling the air, we were off! Dogs of all breeds dashed forward. I launched with the lot, fueled by more than the day’s ration of peanut butter. I charged through the Corgi Castle, narrowly dodging waggly tails that sought to trip me up with a charm that was almost illegal.

Over South Siberian Summit I bounded, the cold of simulated snow against my paws reminding me of the fireplace’s comfort. But comfort and Wrigley, on this day, were strangers. The summit was steep and riddled with competitors leaping like the salmon of ancient dog myths.

Upon conquering the ascent, the Dalmatian Desert awaited – a cunning mirage almost had me chasing a giant fire hydrant that wasn’t really there. But a well-timed leap over a yawning pit (whose idea was that?) brought me back to reality with the taste of dust and victory on my tongue.

Then, as the tales of old times would have it, disaster struck. The golden collar was within sight, glinting in the Spencerville sun, each ray a promise of eternal canine glory.

And then – oh, the indignity – green beans were strewn about the field before me! Like soldiers’ spears against a cavalry charge, they lay in wait to impede my path. I skid, I dodged, I did the unspeakable and leaped over the vile veggies with a yelp of disgust.

Friends, I wish I could tell you that I cinched that collar with ease; that it now rests on my deserving neck as I recline on my deck savoring life’s grandeur. But that would be a tail… er, tale, as false as my affection for rain.

For in the end, it was Maddie – fleet of foot and braver by half when facing the dreaded green bean – who nabbed the collar. She pranced past the finish, victory hers, all while I mustered a look of haunting disdain at the verdant fiends that cost me my win.

Still, as the crowd erupted into rumbly cheers and barked ovations, I could not help but wag my tail in reluctant admiration. Smokey, sage as he was, nudged me side-long. “Remember, it’s not about the collar…”

Yes, yes, the chase indeed, but let me assure you, next year’s Grand Collar Conundrum will have one less obstacle if I have anything to say about it. Until then, you’ll find me glaring warily at the vegetable section of the Woofy Bakery, readying myself for the rematch. And as for today, let’s just call it a ‘pawse’ in my otherwise illustrious sporting career.

The End.