- Dog Tales
- May 7, 2024
Wagging Tales: Stella, the Bulldog Monarch of Spencerville: A Stella PawWord Story
Hey Dad,
You won’t believe this place! I’m Stella the bulldog, the noble ruler of Eastern White Westie Woods now. I’ve journeyed from a taco joint all the way to a throne made of Milk Bones! Settling dog park disputes, indulging in rare burger feasts, and waiting for our ultimate reunion. My reign is all about loyalty and love. I’ve got a pack, I’ve got a palace, and I’ve got a story worth a wag or two. Miss you more than a belly rub.
With slobbery kisses,
Stella đžđ
If these white-curtain walls of Eastern White Westie Woods could whisper, they’d tail-wag tales of a bulldog with a heart crafted from pure fidelity. Yes, I am that bulldog, Stella by name – the Spencerville Sweetheart, the loyal subject of a far-flung, hallowed place where the scent of everlasting kibble lingers in the air like the promise of a never-ending cuddle session.
Swaddled in the lap of doggy luxury, I remember the days before I came to rule this land under the clear blue skies of Spencerville. I didn’t just waltz into the Court of Furred Royalty; I was escorted on the paws of destiny, my parade stretching from the cozy confines of Pup ‘n’ Go Taco Joint to the grand pillared entrance of Fawn Pug Palace, where I was crowned not by birthright but by a conspiracy of love – a canine coup d’etat, if you will.
I found myself draped in the invisible ermine swath of leadership. A silent understanding swirled amongst us – cats, mutts, purebreds alike – that I, indeed, would grace the Milk Bone throne with a quiet dignity known only to those who bask in the gentle caress of the sun as if it were an exclusive privilege afforded to those who wait, as I wait, for the reunion of a lifetime.
And I’ll tell you, as they dubbed me the sovereign of this place, I gazed upon the stoic rows of hopeful whiskers, twitching noses, and wagging tails. Each harbinger of tales untold, their eyes glinted like jewels set into the soft velvet of a shared dream, each one awaiting their own legged companions as loyally as I await mine.
My realm stretches from Lower Silver Siberian Summit to the begonia-bordered boulevards of The Doggie Daycare, each corner whiffing of a freedom untouched by the bother of ear cleanings – the little patience tests of the world we once knew. Instead, here we feast. Bark and Bites, they call it, a culinary kingdom offering anything from prime rib to the coveted hamburgers, a rare delight I indulge in from time to time, reminding me of the palatable victories shared alongside the one whose image remains etched in my being.
Now, don’t mistake calmness for lack of spirit. When discontent ruffles the fur, I lead not with howls or bared fangs but with grace comparable to the cool side of the pillow. Observer, negotiator, bulldogâI wear many a cap, sans the actual headgear, mind you. The dog park disputes? I’ve settled them by the sheer weight of presence, a bulldog’s gaze often sufficing where words fail, my ruling punctuated by an amiable snort or a resigned sigh.
My pack of confidantes? Yes, they are but shadows in this tale, their stories a spectrum of hues, from storied St. Bernard bards to the enigmatic, frolicsome spaniels. Their names, like mine, revered in the soft chew toy corners of historyâtherein lies the kernel of our shared dynasty, a lineage traced through shared sniffs and paw-shake pacts.
And while my tale trots along the wondrous lanes of this canine Camelot, I linger on the fringes of what’s yet to come. A chapter written with each dawning sun, each bone buried, and each ear flap fluttering, the memoir of Stella â a benign beacon guiding the wayward, whiskered travelers awaiting their beloved on the other side.
So here my paw prints press upon the velvety green, a decree of peace, a testament to the dog days that are everything but languidâa royal vigil where every moment is woven from the eternal yarn of longing and devotion.
Yes, if these words were little more than whispers in your ear, they’d sing the song of Stella, Spencerville’s crown jewelâan English Bulldog reigning not over lands and riches, but over the treasures that dwell within the heart.
The End.
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