Hey Mom, rocked Spencerville today. Ruled the salon, took a pastry pilgrimage, forest frolic, avoided the vets and the dreaded pool. Beanbone toys did their job. All in a day’s work! Till the Spencerville gates open. Gus Gus out, stay pawsome. 🐾

Listen to the story here.

We were in the heart of Spencerville, a place of love and memory, where the feats of Bulldog Bay resonate in the hearts of every pawed citizen. Gus, the burly bulldog , and I were cruising in the Lower Silver Siberian Summit. That courageous soul with his dram of stubbornness encased in the riveting frame of tan and white. Splitting the scene, giving his old man the adventure of a lifetime. Never a creature lodged between god and beast did I bear witness to that embodied such paradoxical mirth.

Our compelling convoy threading away from the Tail Waggers, the aroma of oatmeal cream pies, Gus’s favorite vice, loomed enticingly in the air. The Kibble Cuisine and Fishy Bites, all the culinary delights of this mad utopia played second fiddle to those damned pies. But step away from his joyful path to those pies, and you’d feel his wrath. The same went for the Pampered Pooch Salon, a grand castle of grooming where Gus ruled like a king. As soon as he caught scent of watermelon or sight of an unfamiliar face, he’d retreat with the speed of a Hells Angel cornered by the law.

Our next stop, Eastern White Westie Woods. Gus loved the woods, where creatures of his kind could frolic unchained, where the quiet calmness of the lake would beckon to him. Anything but the ominous pool. One might think, him being a canine and all, a pool would be paradise. But not Gus. He had his reasons, surely buried deep in the labyrinth of his canine psyche. Just as his distaste for vets with their cruel ear-cleaning rituals, the daily grind of speaking sweetly to those foreign canines on his walks, the monstrous anxiety of vacuum cleaners and the ferocious solitude of that pitiless existence when left alone.

The bulldog with brains. He’d look at me, a sharp gaze from those wise eyes, drawing me into his world. Playful, affectionate— the ultimate testament of loyalty in this paradise of leftover pets. Yet, let him get a whiff of danger, a shroud over his safety, jump headlong into his protective sphere and like a rabid beast from the heart of Spencerville, he’d transform, his steadfast grip on those adorable Beanbone toys migrating to trespassers that dared stir the soil of our Spencerville.

That’s Spencerville for you, man. That’s the story of Gus, a bulldog with a personality that could fill volumes—all stacked up in his favorite cardboard boxes. It’s an ongoing legend, where Gus waits, relishing those cream pies, indulging in his favorite quirks, awaiting that day when the portals of Spencerville would open and, once again, he’d be reunited with one of us. Until then, in Gus we trust.

The End.

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