Hey Dad,

Still living it up at Spencerville! Picture this: I’m a debonair Pit Shepard, kicking off mornings at Beagle Beach, grabbing a peanut butter pup-cup at Doggy Donuts, and dominating fetch at the park. It’s like paradise, only with more belly rubs and fewer cats. I might miss you more than bacon, but life here’s pretty pawsome. Can’t wait to see you again!

– Minnie

“Another day in Spencerville, another chance to soak up some sun and chase down excitement,” I think to myself as I stretch my legs and shake off the last bits of sleep. The sky’s a perfect cerulean blue over Beagle Beach, my favorite spot in the mornings.

Ah, but I should introduce myself! I’m Minnie, your debonair Pit Shepard, with a swagger in my step and a gleam in my coat that’s practically award-winning. My dad used to say my fur looked like polished mahogany, and I think he was onto something.

I take a leisurely stroll down Beagle Beach, my tail a metronome ticking away the morning’s easy pace. “Mornin’, Minnie!” greets Bruno, the Boxer who runs the beach like it’s his own personal kingdom.

“Hey, Bruno,” I nod back. “Sniffed out anything exciting today?”

“Nah, just the usual Seagull Gossip Network in full swing,” he chuckles, pointing his nose at a flock trading stories about whose fries they swiped yesterday.

Slinking away from the beach, I make my way to Doggy Donuts. You can’t miss Doggy Donuts—it’s got this neon sign that flashes like canine Vegas. I push through the door, my favorite chew toy in tow—ah, the fire hose chew toy, my inanimate best friend.

“Welcome, Minnie!” barks Missy, the Poodle behind the counter. “The usual, right? Peanut butter pup-cup with a bacon drizzle?”

“You know me so well, Missy,” I say, my mouth practically watering before I even finish my reply. “Just throw in a milk-bone smoothie, too. Feeling adventurous.”

Savoring each bite, I plop myself down at a cozy corner table and watch other dogs trickle in. It’s a medley of tails and wagging tongues, a symphony of barks and the occasional woof of disapproval from the elders.

I watch as some of my friends walk past. There’s Rocco, the Rottweiler, and Daisy, the Dachsund—they’re like an old married couple, always arguing one second and cuddling the next. Mornings in Spencerville are the perfect reminder that life here is, how do I put it, human-like but better. We do everything with more gusto. Especially chewing on stuff.

“Yo, Minnie!” shouts a familiar voice, snapping me out of my donut-induced daydream. It’s Rex, the Labrador from Western Labradoodle Lake. He struts over, a slight limp still from last week’s tug-of-war match. “Everybody’s gathering at the park later. You in?”

“Am I in?” I chuckle, practically jumping to my paws. “Rex, I wouldn’t miss this for all the bones in Bone Appetit!”

Now, the park is where the magic happens. It’s my favorite spot to sunbathe, to feel the warm rays kiss my coat as I lay down on the lush grass. Rex and I jog over, finding our usual gang already kicking up dust.

There’s Bella the Beagle, who claims she’s got the best nose in town. Max, the hyper Cocker Spaniel, never stops running in circles. And let’s not forget Luna, the moody Husky, who insists on telling ghost stories every time the sun sets.

I drop the fire hose chew toy on the grass and wag my tail like it’s a windmill in a hurricane. “Alright, who’s got the stick? I hear there’s a game of fetch that needs a champion.”

The stick flies, the chase begins, and I’m off, weaving through a maze of legs and laughter. It’s moments like these where I really feel the spirit of Spencerville. Despite our forever homes being just out of reach, we’re content here. It’s the friends we make, the stories we share, the little adventures that keep us wagging for more.

And of course, there’s my ritual. You see, around 3 pm, the world stops. That’s my sacred hour, the time where anything remotely edible is ceremoniously devoured. As the clock strikes three, Missy’s donut doesn’t just become a treat, it becomes a testament to another day well lived.

Yet, even in Spencerville, not everything hits the right note. Visits to The Groom Room make my tail droop, and don’t get me started on cats. Sneaky little fluffballs, always acting like it’s their world we just happen to live in.

But life here is more than just waiting; it’s a place where loyalty runs deeper than the Western Labradoodle Lake and the bonds we form are stronger than any leash that ever held us.

As the sun begins to set, and the shadows grow longer, I roll onto my back, gaze at the twilight sky, and feel a sense of completeness. My story isn’t over, not by a long shot. Each dawn brings new adventures, a new chapter in this eternal tail.

I know that somewhere, my dad misses me just as much as I miss him. But one day, we’ll meet again. Until then, Spencerville and its endless delights are here—an almost perfect place where this brown Pit Shepard mix wags on.

The End.