Hey Mom, had an epic day! Sunbathing at the beach, smelled like peanut butter, chicken, n’ strawberries. Scared off the delivery guy (don’t worry, just doing my protective duties!). Then surprise rain, decided to stick it out w/ my gang by the river instead of running to my cozy bed. Ended the day wet but joyful! Love, Mboy. 🐾

Listen to the story here.

Well now, I suppose y’all remember Brother Malchik, that hulking mass of dog with a heart made of pure, fine-tuned loyalty. We all have our favorite tales in Spencerville, and mine happens to involve Brother Malchik, God bless his soul, during that one summer when the creek did run dry and the fetch balls seemed scarce.

That morning, as if driven by a sense of mischievous adventure, Malchik decided to take a languid sprawl right down there at the Brown Boxer Beach, his prized Lambchops toy by his side. He stretched out full length, lookin’ every inch the regal beast that he was, and yet ever the vigilant German Shepard, ears perked to the whispering promises of Spencerville.

Of course, the luxury of this beach baskin’ was that the sun rays toasting his grey-golden fur did not come with the sour aftertaste of the detestable spinach. Oh no, sir. Instead, they carried the forbidden sweetness of peanut butter, chicken, and, God knows why, strawberries. Thereat, Brother Malchik reveled in that delicatessen mirage, the mirth in his eyes a testament to his hedonistic nature.

But be wary, reader, for Spencerville ain’t no mere utopia, and Malchik’s day was not without its share of tempests. The delivery person, an unexpected guest at The Bark Shak, set him off in a fit of righteous indignation. He stood, shaking his bulk with the terrifying presence of Cane Corso, protecting the integrity of that sacrosanct beacon of squeaky toy freedom. Yet, as fearsome as he looked, one glance into his kindhearted gaze was enough to appease the startled delivery person.

Now then, let me tell you about Brother Malchik’s disdain for the rain. As dusk descended, the rain-painters of the heavens set up their easels to depict their gloomy draft upon the perfect canvas of Spencerville. Brother Malchik, ever the trouper, chose nature’s uproar over the isolation of his big bed, courageously choosing to accompany his pack, Sinbad and lovely Kahkseh, down by the Southern Golden Retriever River.

And so, between playful scuffles and shared silent vigilance, the muddy river’s edge, resonating with the echo of falling rain, bound them closer than ever. Driven not by stubborn bravery but by mutual regard, they chose to submit to the damp discomfort of their coats over the solitude of their comfort zones.

Ultimately, when the last remnants of the day faded into the blackness of the Spencerville night, Brother Malchik returned to his wide bed, wet and victorious. Yielding to the soft crash of sleep, Malchik dreamed of better days–days of squeak balls and squeals, days of his loving pack and sumptuous food. For nothing dampened the spirit of Brother Malchik. And that is why we remember him as we do—stern, unyielding, but trusty, faithful, loyal to the core.

The End.