Hey buddy, your pal Eddie here. Learned that new ‘dos and pupaccinos don’t scrub out old loves. Jasmine’s memory clings like burrs on a tail, but it turns out, even an old pug can cherish the slobbery rubber ball of nostalgia. Spencerville life lesson: the best tales aren’t forgotten, they’re wagged proudly. Own your slobbers, my friend. 🐾 Eddie

You know how they say you can never teach an old dog new tricks? Well, let me tell you, they’ve obviously never been to Spencerville. It’s here, along the cobblestoned tracks of Wistful Whisker Way, I found myself in a pickle that pickled even the likes of Spencerville’s most seasoned squirrels.

It was just another sun-splashed afternoon, Max, Bella, and I flopped under our oak tree, when the ghost of chew toys past came to haunt me. The lingering scent of that memory perked my ears before my heart caught up – Jasmine, the regal Golden Retriever with a tail that swayed like a debutante’s gown. We had a fling, a summer of endless Frisbees and shared water bowls, until she caught the scent of a traveling Terrier.

Let’s pause for a sigh, shall we? Ah, there it is.

I decided with the resolve of a pup who’s just found his favorite ball, I’d erase her, every single tail-wagging memory. Now, where’s the fun in wallowing, you tell me? Max, with his signature quizzical look, suggested I sniff out the Pomeranian therapist at Woof and Whisker Wellness Center, but I had a better plan.

So there I was, prancing into The Dapper Dog Salon with a mission. If you’re going to forget a great love, might as well do it with a new haircut. Penelope, always the skeptic, snorted at the idea, saying memories cling tighter than burrs on a bushy tail, but I was a pug on a mission.

I bypassed the Groom-O-Rama 3000, dodging a soaking from a Dalmatian mid-shampoo, and made for my usual spot. With each snip and clip, I felt bits of Jasmine float away, like fur in the breeze. My new ‘do was dashing, a cut that said, ‘I’m moving on,’ with just a hint of ‘but I might casually loiter by your favorite hydrant on Tuesdays.’

Yet, the heart’s a stubborn thing. And as it turns out, so are memories, especially when Bark ‘n’ Roll has a two-for-one pupaccino deal, and I found myself sitting across from a Labrador who had eyes the color of Jasmine’s — bluer than the deepest bone-shaped pool in Cream Maltese Meadow.

The erasing business is messy, I learned. I spotted her, out of the corner of my perfectly trimmed eye, across the park. That’s when I knew that some spots can’t be groomed away, not even with the fanciest organic shampoo.

“Eddie, you old dog,” I thought, “give it up.” Because in the end, the chase, the shared naps under our oak tree, the moments of sheer joy – that’s the stuff of Spencerville legends. Erase memories? Bah, I’d rather stuff them in my toy basket and let them be. After all, what use is there being in nearly-perfect Spencerville if you can’t bask in the sunshine of past romances, right?

So here I am, Eddie the Fawn Pug, with a bouncing step, strutting through Western Fawn Pug Palace and an anecdote for every wagging tail. Sometimes, you need to chase a few leaves, get a fancy haircut, and inadvertently drink a pupaccino across from a Labrador to realize that memories, like a good rubber ball, are worth holding onto. Even if they do get a little slobbery.

The End.