Hey Mom, you won’t believe it. I just led a team of our best dog pals on a heist to snag a year’s supply of goldfish crackers from a truck. A jittery Chihuahua, a muscle-bound Doberman, and an agile gymnast Cocker Spaniel—plus me, the bulldog brains of the operation! Almost got caught by Tyson the Rottweiler, but I sweet-talked him with Barney the dinosaur and we all celebrated together. Life in Spencerville is wild! Miss you, and remember, always chew your goldfish crackers on the left—they’re crunchier.

Love, Kirby

“Look, I don’t care what anyone says, there’s nothing more dangerous than a squad of determined canines with a foolproof plan—especially when the squad’s led by yours truly, Kirby, the small but mighty English bulldog.

It all began when I got fed up with the generic kibbles at The Bark Shak, which led me to scour Spencerville for something worthy of my refined palate—goldfish crackers. You’d think they were gold-dusted the way Mom rations them out. So, I brainstormed a caper with precision planning worthy of the heist greats. Only, instead of robbing diamonds, our target was a truck hauling a year’s worth of goldfish crackers. Listen, desperate times call for desperate measures.

Our crew was tight—there was Peanut, the jittery Chihuahua with a fantastic knack for finding weak spots, Grover, the Doberman whose size and charisma could charm the kibble off any steward, and Stella, the Cocker Spaniel with the agility of an Olympic gymnast. And then there was me, Kirby, the brains of the outfit, with more smarts in one black-spotted ear than some dogs have in their entire noggin.

We met at High Noon near the Lower Silver Siberian Summit. The scenery was picturesque, but all I could see were crispy, cheesy little fishies in my mind.

Quipping at Grover, I initiated the plan, “Alright, team, gather ‘round. Peanut, you scope the loading dock. Grover, you flex those muscles of yours—intimidation is key. Stella, once Peanut gives the signal, you swoop down and snag our prize. Everyone good? Let’s not mess this up—we don’t need another Poodle Pond disaster!”

Grover’s response was a deep-baritone bark that sent a squirrel three counties over into therapy. “Got it, Kirby. No squirrel antics this time.”

Peanut couldn’t stop shaking his entire body but still managed a twitchy nod. We were ready.

We followed the truck as discreetly as a colorful parade of fur could manage. Peanut darted ahead and covertly found a gap in the rodent-sized crate. Meanwhile, Grover’s casual stride along the truck set the driver at ease as Stella and I took positions.

“Here comes the tricky part, team,” I whispered, purposefully avoiding mention of bath-time as a morale killer.

Peanut let out a barely audible “yip”—the eagle had landed.

Stella pounced, legs extending mid-air like a golden acrobat. She snatched the crate and hightailed it to the hideout we set up beneath the old Sycamore Tree. Everything was golden—literally. We did it! And then…

“Woah there, furballs!” came a deep bark. It was Tyson, the Rottweiler, and chief of security for Canine Couture Clothing. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Thinking quickly, I called out, “Tyson, just the dog I was looking for! You see, these goldfish crackers? We’re starting a, uh, charity. For underprivileged puppies!”

Tyson raised an eyebrow, assessing us. “You got paperwork for this so-called ‘charity,’ Kirby?”

“Paperwork? Why, Tyson, we’ve got something even better!” I presented my beloved purple dinosaur toy, now a little worse for wear but still powerfully nostalgic.

Tyson’s eyes softened. Who could resist? “Alright, alright. But you owe me some of those.”

We shared a celebratory feast at The Bone Appetit that evening—goldfish crackers for everyone, even Tyson. Sure, the heist didn’t go flawlessly, but hey, in Spencerville, just like in the legends, it’s the people you share your kibbles with that matter most. Stella got a gold medal in friendship, Peanut found a toy that didn’t trigger his neuroses, and Grover had all the bandana compliments he could handle. Me? I was just glad to keep my head above the Poodle Pond waters.

Somewhere out there, I know Mom’s probably shaking her head with laughter. One day, I’ll be reunited with her. Till then, there are more heists to try, more goldfish crackers to steal, and definitely more squirrels to bark at.

So here’s to the next adventure, and remember—always chew your goldfish crackers on the left side where they’re extra crunchy.”

The End.