Hey Mom and Dad,

Just wanted to let you know that in our once-peaceful Spencerville, I, Sampson, have taken on a new role. By day, I’m your lovable English Bulldog, but by night, I’m The Bark Knight, defender of squeaky toys and righter of wrongs. Recently, I thwarted the Raccoon Gang’s cookie heist, sending those scoundrels scurrying back to their holes. Rest easy, Spencerville’s peace is safe for now.

Love,
Big Sammy 🐾

Time was, Spencerville had a tranquility to it, the sort of peace-and-quiet that would let a bulldog nap under the shade of Golden Gate Gardens without a single snore destroyed by noise. Well, that all changed when the Raccoon Gang rolled into town, upsetting the balance of squeaky toys and chicken-flavored treats. They made life a hassle, a bother, and generally more annoying that a vacuum cleaner on full blast. But they hadn’t reckoned with Sampson.

That’s right: me.

By day, I am Sampson, an amiable, tug-of-war-loving English Bulldog, with brindle patches enough to make a calico cat think twice. But by night, when the sun dips below Upper Black Bulldog Bay and the moonlight bathes Greyhound Grove, I don my black cape and mask. In an abandoned doghouse, hidden at the edge of Golden Gate Gardens, I transform into The Bark Knight.

It was a clear evening, the kind of night that’d otherwise be perfect for pacing outside The Bone Appetit, sniffing for scraps. Yet duty called. Fat Russell, the informant, had mentioned a Raccoon Gang meeting near the old tree in Greyhound Grove. I sauntered through town, my trusty tennis ball clamped firmly between my teeth, and tail swaying with purpose.

“Evening, Sampson!” barked Fenway, gnawing on a particularly stubborn chew toy.

“Stay alert, Fenway,” I growled in my best deep, gruff voice. “Any signs of mischief from those masked bandits?”

Fenway wagged his tail, which wasn’t that encouraging, given that Fenway would wag his tail at a tumbleweed. I continued towards Greyhound Grove, where the shady verdancy seemed to hum with tension.

The gang—six raccoons with matted fur and shifty eyes—had gathered under the ancient oak. One of them, Big Boris, was scraping together plans for a cookie heist at Pup-Cakes. Stealthily, I approached, my brindle latch ear twitching in anticipation.

“Spread out, keep your noses down!” Boris declared, unaware of the low growl resonating from the bushes. They hadn’t clocked me yet—The Bark Knight was nothing if not a master of stealth.

I surged forth, muttering my battle cry, “Bone and justice!” My tennis ball rocketed toward Boris, hitting him square in his patchy belly. The raccoon staggered backward, eyes wide with bemusement as Sampson—no, The Bark Knight—emerged from the shadows.

“Y-you!” Boris stammered. “It’s, it’s… The Bark Knight!”

Fat Russell had tipped me off that Boris wasn’t too bright, but good ol’ Russell hadn’t mentioned he was dumber than an unplugged vacuum cleaner. I lunged, snatching my tennis ball back while delivering swift, expertly measured barks and growls. Big Boris, disoriented, squealed for a retreat.

“We’ll meet again!” he cried, presumably hoping to sound menacing. I gave chase until Greyhound Grove echoed with the sound of their swishy tails disappearing into the night.

With the rascals routed, I trotted back towards Waggle n’ Wok—time for some well-earned nosh. The occupants in the eateries were abuzz with the news of The Bark Knight once again maintaining the peace. Marley, ever the skeptic, cast a knowing glance as he munched on a vanilla cookie.

“Interesting night, eh, Sampson?” Marley quipped. “Heard something about The Bark Knight saving the day again?”

I gave a nonchalant wag of my tail, savoring the silky sweetness of a vanilla cookie. I didn’t need recognition; I had my friends, my tennis ball, and a job to do.

In Spencerville, the legend of The Bark Knight would only grow, much like the hope of every pet waiting in anticipation for that joyful reunion. But until then, Spencerville would remain under my vigilant watch, a perfect place where every robber barked up the wrong tree and every night ended with the rattle of a retreating raccoon tail. Rex Reborn, Bark Knight Bound.

For justice never takes a day off, and neither does Sampson.

The End.