Hey Family,

Guess what? Just another stormy night in Spencerville where Jim and I thwarted an “intruder gang” in our backyard, only to find it was Porkchop and friends testing our mettle in hide and seek! The old recliner still reigns supreme and the realm is safe, for now.

– Russ

—

The sun had dipped below the horizon in Spencerville, casting a long shadow as I glanced over my kingdom from the vantage point of my old, comfy recliner. The chair was my fortress, my scepter one of the many plastic golf balls scattered about the living room. Everything felt right in the world, even though a rainstorm was lurking ominously in the distance.

Jim the Westie, my loyal sibling and partner in crime, perched by the window, sniffing at the air. “Russ,” Jim murmured with his signature twinkle of mischief, “There’s something out there.”

“What’s ‘something’?” I retorted, the word leaving my mouth half-growl, half-purr. My eyes darted to Jim, but his normally playful demeanor had taken on an air of unease—a rare sight in Spencerville.

“Can’t say for sure,” he replied, his nose twitching. “But it’s not the usual racket. It’s…different.”

Before I could probe further, a sudden ruckus invaded our serene little home. My ears perked up as those dreaded footsteps—the ones I associated with deliveries—echoed through the neighborhood. My hackles rose instinctively. The sight of that delivery-person had always set off a chain reaction of stern barks and deep growls. But tonight, the sound of the footsteps sent an unfamiliar chill down my spine.

“Jim, on your paws!” I commanded, leaping off my throne with practiced agility.

Together, like well-rehearsed secret agents, we darted between furniture and through the kitchen, making our way to the back door. The storm now loomed closer, lightning crackling intermittently. Was it the weather that threw Spencerville into a state of unrest, or something far more sinister?

As we crashed out into the backyard, adrenaline coursing through my veins, I saw it. Shadowed figures lurked just beyond the fence, their forms obscured by the downpour that had finally broken, drenching everything in sight. My heart pounded in my chest, a primal fear blending with a surge of protectiveness for my home and family.

“Who are you?” I barked into the abyss, not expecting an answer.

The figures didn’t move, standing like eerie statues. In a flash of lightning, I caught a glance—a dragging limp, a nondescript uniform that didn’t belong. Delivery-person, yes, but different, somehow predatory.

Jim was at my side, fur soaked but head held high. “We can take them, Russ, we always have.” His voice was a mixture of courage and trepidation.

“Back off, intruders!” I growled, my eyes flashing with resolved tenacity honed from countless rambunctious escapades and backyard cavorts.

The figures advanced, slowly, deliberately. Behind us, the door creaked open to our fortress of warmth and love—a reminder of all we had to lose.

Driven by an instinct older than Spencerville itself, I surged forward, barking with an intensity I had only previously reserved for the most formidable of meatball thieves. Jim followed, his barks blending with mine, creating a cacophony of defiance against the squall.

And then, the unexpected—a figure stepped forward, parting from the others. Familiar eyes met mine. Porkchop, the neighbor’s mischievous terrier, grinned up at us, drenched but beaming.

“Just a test, fellas,” Porkchop chattered with laughter, backed by a chorus of familiar barks and yips. “Next time Bash the Boxer challenges you to a game of hide and seek in the storm—take a rain check.”

“You rascal!” spat Jim in mock anger and relief, shaking off droplets like a sprinkler.

I took a deep breath, the tension evaporating like mist. Spencerville was safe once again, at least for tonight. As we trudged back home through the now-gentle rain, I stole one last look at the shadows dispersing, counting my blessings.

My chair awaited, and perhaps a meatball or two—a little reward for a ruler maintaining peace in his realm.

Life in Spencerville was a tapestry of mischievous camaraderie and unexpected thrills, woven together by bonds of friendship as steadfast as my reign over that old recliner.

And tomorrow? Well, tomorrow would be another day for plastic golf balls and Bulldog Bay adventures. But tonight, amidst the final flickers of lightning, my brother and I were the heroes—guardians of Spencerville, forever realigning our stories with each heaven-sent pawfall.

—

The End.