Hey mom, it’s Jaz Bug. Just touched base in doggy heaven aka Spencerville! Totally ruling it here. Waging war against every stick and totally dissin’ those squirrels. Made some cool buddies too. No cats – eew. All’s good. Miss your cinnamon bread though, and yes, still no love for the pills. Hugs and woofs, your furry queen, Jaz Bug.

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I reckon you all remember Jazzy, the sprightly blend of Australian Shepherd and Norwegian Elkhound, sporting her fluffy coat like a queen’s robe. That old tail, bristling with colors majestic enough to make a peacock run for its money, tossed and undulated in the summer breeze like it were silk from the Orient. Nothing but sincere warmth twinkled in her brown eyes. She’d be knee high to a grasshopper, always planted her feet firm and cool as a cucumber, even whilst squirrels rustled up the bushes, tempting her canines into a game of catch.

Well, luck had it one fine morning that stubborn streak in her showed its color, and not the one I’d been expecting. Refused to even sniff a toy, she did. Always was a tenacious one, Jazzy. Loved the old dirt, dappled with morning dew and ripe with the aroma of earth. Chewing’s another fine quality she carries, turning over every root and stick, sizing up her next opponent.

You know how folks’ tales talk about some magical land far, far away? Well, that magical place, the town of Spencerville, it exists here, it does. Where life blossomed not in the humdrum of dwelling halls and stone roads but in places like Maltese Meadow and Shepherd Skyline. The pets and critters had their own Springfield, their own little heaven.

Jazzy took a fancy to Yappy Yogurt’s Chicken n Rice, Dog-gone Good BBQ’s infamous cheeseburgers almost instantly. I swear, if she had pants, those’d always been on fire at the smell of kibble deep in broth and mom’s food, especially the cinnamon bread – like she was possessed by the devil, chowing them down even before you could bat an eye. Only thing that could take that fire out were the pills – gave them a wide berth, she did.

Her life in Spencerville was replete with kin and comrades – not of the homo sapiens kind but of the same four-legged fraternity, like old Jax, the terrier, loyal as a soldier. Then there’re the siblings, the unforgettable quartet of Charlie, Moose, Ozzy, and Echo. They all imbued the air of Spencerville with a sense of hominess, completeness. Despite all that love and camaraderie, weren’t much fond of cats, though. Cats to her were like thunder to a crow, a natural enemy. And of course, the dreadful trip to the vet – would rather take a leap in some good old mud puddle.

But none of these, not the cat or the vet, could pester the calm in her eyes, the love in her heart; Jazzy was, after all, our heartwarmer, the queen of Spencerville.

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