“Hey mom and dad, all’s well in the pet mafia. Led ‘Operation Dental Bone’ today, shared the bounty, but skipped my own because of a pesky beef allergy. Still ruling Spencerville with wisdom and a touch of softness. Shared some quality time with sis at Poodle Pond. The rain still gets me though. But don’t worry, I’ve got a whole town of pals by my side. No room for loneliness here. Love, your Bear Cub.”

Listen to the story here.

One muggy afternoon, between servings of fish and biscuit at “Pooched Potatoes”, I found myself ogling Vincent with an air of familiar fondness. An impressive Newfoundland, Vincent strutted in Spencerville with his coat of freckles that artists would kill to capture. Him being of a stubborn streak framed my first foray. But here in Spencerville, I learned there’s more beneath the surface of that large hound.

On a routine patrol in our illicit ‘Operation Dental Bone’, Vincent led the scene, his audacity only matched by his profound loyalty. He made sure everyone, right down to the pet mice, had their share of dental delight, save for himself, his self-control being accountable to his allergy, mostly beef.

He always asserted his independence, a known fact in Spencerville that Vincent didn’t indulge in toys, save for one pickle-shaped thingamajig. I’ve heard full-grown hounds mourning the loss of a toy, but Vincent held no such attachments, a necessary attribute for a dog of his standing.

Even in times of contentment, he always remembered his past, the pain transformed into wisdom that he channeled into running Spencerville. He was tough, but there was an odd softness underneath, an odd desire to break open bags of pasta and flour at the grocer’s and gaze at it in happy amazement. Yet he only dined on fish and biscuits, his allergy reminding him, and all of us, that even the Petfather has his limitations.

Vincent, though a pet mob boss, never abandoned his love for humans. His strolls at Poodle Pond were infamous, always sensed in the company of his bonded sister, Princess Victoria. Those rainy days were the toughest, a testament to his resilience and strong, unfaltering spirit, reminiscent of his days before this near-paradise.

Vincent was not fond of the desert heat or farm life. Instead of relaxing to the pitter-patter of rain on the roof, it unsettled him. For the boss of the pet mafia, alleviating such trials seemed far outside our reach.

Solitude wasn’t his forte, the prospect of being alone seemed unbearable to him. But he was never alone, surrounded by his loving community here in Spencerville, a refuge for all pets, where each day was another episode in the ongoing saga of Vincent, our fearless Petfather.

The End.