Hey Mom and Dad,
It’s been an eventful day! I managed to chase away that pesky squirrel who’s been pilfering our garden stash, discovered a hidden path in the woods that’s begging for more exploration, and, of course, kept everyone’s spirits up during the rainstorm with my soggy paws and wagging tail. Can’t wait to show you all the new tricks I’ve learned. Hope you’re proud of your little adventure pup.
Love, Norm 🐾

Well now, folks, let me tell ya about an ordinary, if you can call it that, day in the blissful land of Spencerville. Now, I reckon you may remember me, Norman—none other than the Boston Terrier and Beagle cross that folks back on earth know as Norm or the rather grandiose Normiekins. But around here, I’m just another spirited pooch settlin’ into this harmonious pet paradise.

Spencerville’s a downright beautiful town, I declare. It’s where us pets lounge ‘round ’til we’re reunited with our folks. Ain’t much I can fuss about here. Take this morning for instance, I lounged about sunbathin’ in the early light at Greyhound Grove, stretchin’ my lean, muscular legs and feelin’ quite the cozy Boston Beagle butterball. That sun was shinin’ bright enough that I could almost forget my dislike for snow and my pesky aversion to other dogs, although I do miss ol’ Elliott, my best pal and a massive Great Pyrenees/Gold Lab mix. Spent a decade lovin’ that big furball, I did.

Now, you’ve not truly lived ‘til you’ve taken a glorious green grass roll in Spencerville. But not a moment after I was a-rollin’ happily on my back, I caught sight of an orange flash—my beloved orange ball—a bounce away. Y’all know how I can’t resist a game of fetch. Why, sometimes I reckon I’m too smart for my own good, but throw a ball, and I’m dumber than a hare in a lettuce patch.

On my way back from fetchin’ this grand treasure, I stopped by Pawsome Pancakes. Mighty fine establishment, that. I had ‘em fix up a stack of ham-infused flapjacks, with a wee smidgen o’ cheese. Vegetables, they know ain’t a fit meal for me, so they don’t even bother. I s’pose I’ve been called stubborn, but here in Spencerville, they call it havin’ standards.

After fillin’ my belly, I trotted on over to Shih Tzu Stadium, where a car-ride simulation awaited. Now, don’t y’all get me wrong—I miss the bumper of the ol’ family car back home—but I gotta confess, the simulator’s so close it sets my tail nub wagglin’.

By late afternoon, I took to the Yellow Tan Dalmatian Desert, the stretchin’ sands remind me of the backyard at home. Only thing missin’ was mom and dad, but somethin’ in Spencerville’s air just knows how to soothe a loyal heart like mine. I pass the time by rough-housin’ with the desert critters here, all pretend-like, just enough to keep my brave spirit entertained and respected.

As night began to blanket the town, I wandered into The Pooch Playhouse and curled up by the fire. There was a faint smell of cookies, which I adore almost as much as seein’ my folks. My ears perked to their keenest—long like a beagle’s but pointy like a terrier’s—and I imagined the tales being spun in the streets outside. Maybe ‘tis bold to say, but a dog’s got more than just loyalty and muscle, we’ve got history, and Spencerville is where stories like mine are treasured until time sees to it that we trot back to the ones we love.

And as I drifted into my dreams, visions of home came up strong, but in this lovable town, I hold firm to the promise of reunitin’ with my people. Until then, every day in Spencerville holds a twinkle of joy, and a dash of adventure.