“Hey Mom, it’s Ace! I’ve been patrolling the alleys, playing diplomat, and still finding time to steal squeaky toys. Scuffles on Beagle Beach, but still reigning queen of Spencerville. Also, routinely avoiding bath times and ear cleanings. PS: Might’ve instigated a ‘tail-over’ at the Pug Palace. Love, your Furball of Chaos.”

Listen to the story here

‘During my bouts of lurking around in Spencerville, I’d have bet my best bone that I knew nearly every nosy nose wagging around the furry corners of this labor-of-love town. I reckoned I had met them all – the ornery, the waggish, the lovelorn, the bold, the gullible, and of course, the audacious among them. Then, I met Ace.

The beating heart of Spencerville, we used to call her. A gloriously blond Labrador that practically bounced off the cobblestone streets whenever Bark and Bites released a new, meaty menu. Her square noggin might’ve seemed unapproachable to a newcomer, but one glance at those twinkling puppy eyes was sufficient to debunk any notion of her being anything less than pure good-natured Spencervillean frivolity.

If she weren’t busy sniffing dejectedly around the vegetable aisle of Pawsitively Purrfect Pet Store, she’d be in her little paradise, wreaking havoc on her squeaky toys. But when Ace lazed around atop the Siberian Summit, you were looking at a generous and faithful citizen, holding court with her band of quirky comrades.

A chunky 80lb bundle of fur, throbbing energy, and a sharp wit to sharp teeth ratio, Ace was a precious gem. She’d prowl the alleys and roofs at night, keeping the peace of the town, her supersensitive ears equipped to pick up even the lowest fed intel. You’d think she were routing out dastardly plots than trying to avoid the inevitable bath times and ear cleanings.

And as I was in ‘The Furry Friends Art Gallery,’ gobbling a mouthful of treats, Ace moulted into the pup-veteran of the political intrigue that funnelled through the corridors of Spencerville’s politics. The Western Fawn Pug Palace was the unconventional artillery where we planned our coups and ‘tail-overs.’

Ace, Caffrey, and I embodied the moniker of the civil service, baring our fangs, raising our tales, settling any tail of two city types of difference. Ace and Caffrey, two siblings navigating the political whirlwinds using tricks, toys, and a whole lot of bounding around.

Through the lens of time, Ace proved to be more than just a four-letter callout. She was the embodiment of Spencerville’s spirit, its very essence. Through trials, negotiations, and a fair few scuffles on Beagle Beach, Ace was there- our heart, our soul, and our greatest political asset.

Ace was our friend, our colleague. Our leader. Ace was the beating heart of Spencerville, and long may she reign.’