Hey Fam!

Guess who’s trotting the path to true love? Yep, that’s right, your own Eddie! Charmed the flappy ears off Lady today with my smooth ‘saunter’ invite. We might just be the new “it” couple of Spencerville – watch out, Brangelina! Endured a terrier test of love but ended on a sunset that sparkled brighter than my eyes at chow time. Paws crossed, this isn’t just puppy love!

Tails wags and wet noses,
Eddie 🐾😎

So there I was, Eddie the pug, my jowl flaps billowing in the Spencerville breeze, thinking a very pug-like thought, “What if my rubber duck is feeling lonely?” There’s a heaviness in canine solitude that teeters between the bliss of a nap in a sunbeam and the angst of watching the last chicken liver treat be devoured by the cat. I decided today was no day for such heaviness.

I trotted past Doggy Delight, aligning my distinguished moustache parallel to the cobblestones. There, I heard the laughter that tinkles like bell collars, and the scent of Doggy Bagel Delis wafted through the air, whispering secrets of salmon cream cheese. And who was at the center of this sound and fury? Lady, a beagle with ears so floppy they could mop up my drool. It was unrequited love—the kind you read about in ‘Dog Carts and Pawthos’—that drove a distinguished pug like me to distraction.

Lady was the Audrey Hepburn of the canine world, her doe-like eyes scanning menus as if choosing between an Oscar gown or a romp through Eastern White Westie Woods. A sniff in the air told me love was not only for the young or the two-legged kind that stood upright; it danced around us in the shapes of leaves and tantalized us with the promise of everlasting games of fetch.

Love, I learned, swoops down when you least expect it, like an errant Frisbee bound for glory. There she was, nibbling delicately on a piece of rye, the corners of her mouth lifting in a smile. My heartstrings played a concerto.

“Lady, my dear,” I started, the words tumbling like kibble from an overturned bowl. My mind spun a yarn faster than The Barking Boutique’s latest knitting circle. “Would you care to join me for a saunter? There’s an art exhibition at The Furry Friends Art Gallery featuring a portrait series of pugs.”

Her eyes twinkled like stars reflected in a tranquil pond of chicken broth.

“Eddie,” she began, the word hanging in the air like the moment before a dropped treat hits the floor. “Eddie, you charmer, you had me at ‘saunter’.”

Our paws took us through Spencerville like a pair of scissors through wrapping paper, smooth and with a purpose. As we strolled, we swapped tales of tail wags and nose boops the way old friends do. But, ah, the road to a pug’s affections is not paved in treats alone.

Molly and Max, my trusty terrier chums, decided to test my romantic mettle, planting themselves between love’s young dream. With a synchronized bark and a twin set of tail-wags, they darted around us, their antics setting the pace for a merry chase all the way to Red Beagle Beach.

The sun dipped low, painting the sky the color of well-aged kibble. We arrived at the beach, slightly disheveled, Molly and Max in tow, panting with the satisfaction of a well-executed interruption.

Yet, standing there with Lady, the horizon stretched out like an unfurled leash, offering endless possibilities. Laughter bubbled inside me like carbonation on a wet snout. She nuzzled my moustache, her affection as clear as the mission statement of The Howling Husky Hardware Store: sturdy, reliable, always there when you need it.

And at that moment, dear reader, my pulse raced not from the run, but from the realization that love in Spencerville, much like its playful inhabitants, waits for no one – it bounds, it leaps, and, if you’re lucky, it lands square in your heart with the precision of a poised paw.

The End.