“Hey Mom! Tanner here, living large in Spencerville! Drama zone, cheese shortages, Fat Russell to the rescue, and I’m the canine ambassador. Fascinating place, feels a bit auto-corrected version of human existence. Boy do I miss Lily and Spencer! More stories soon. Hugs and licks, Tanner 🐾”

Listen to the storyhere.
There I was, in Spencerville, in the thick of a battle of dogged proportions. The Pet Survival stakes were high. My companions and I found ourselves in a land so eerily close to Cecil B. DeMille’s definition of Paradise, it was unnerving. The place oozed warmth, with some of the most unique architecture stood tall in the landscape. Take East Pug Palace, for instance, an endearing structure resembling the very face our fellow resident Bulldog loved to smush in the mornings.

We woke, ate at Furrific Fried Chicken, the menus tantalizing with deliciously luscious smells and intriguing readings. Western Labradoodle Lake that sat right in the center was more than just a water body; it was the heart of Spencerville.

I was Tanner, the token Pug and Rat Terrier ambassador in Spencerville. A blend of the dog-eat-dog world and a semblance of calm that made wandering minds reflective. Evenings were spent by the lake’s side, the calm waters mirroring the tranquility of my contemplative breed.

Remember I claimed to have an odd palate for a dog earlier? Especially my particular fondness for cheese and an inexplicable distaste for chocolate. Well, once, our favorite haunts, Bark ‘n’ Roll and Tail Waggers, happened to run out of my delectable cheese, and I found myself stuck with chocolate-infused confections.

As I battled my predicament, in walked Fat Russell. Oh, Fat Russell. A sight for sore eyes, or in my case, sore tastebuds. He made his way implicitly towards our table, and the sight of his brindle coat bobbing in the air cleared the chocolate-induced edge.

Me: “How do we survive in a paradise that fails to understand the needs of our palates?”

Russell: “Ah, Tanner, your Pug half does lead you to dramatics, doesn’t it!”

As we laughed off my momentary craziness, the door chimed again. The crowd’s gasp and the flapping of the Tail Waggers’ door filled the room. Millie had walked in. Oh Millie, a valiant beauty!

Watching Fat Russell and Millie together, I felt a pang of longing for Lilly and Spencer. Would they understand the nuances of Spencerville; the absence of the hustling cityscape, the quiet, devoid of ear-cleaning sessions?

My transformation from an urban, car-ride loving Pug to a survival expert might make Spencer proud of his son, yet would it perplex Lilly, the quiet, dependable love of my life?

Indeed, Spencerville wove such tales, of survival, of friendships, and all things extraordinary. Perhaps, even the inanimate toy back home had some fascinating stories to tell about its survival.

It felt quite unreal to live a human-like existence in Spencerville. As fellow dogs, we missed our human companions in our own strange ways. Would this Paradise be worth the wait? Would our long and winding tales find a captive audience in our human parents?

Despite more questions and fewer answers, my instincts as Tanner kept me rooted. I held on to Spencerville’s enchanting charm, waiting patiently for the day I would reunite with my loved ones, and my chess-like world would align with their versions of idyllic living. For dogs have dreams too, and I was living mine in Spencerville.