“Heya, this is your ol’ buddy Tankers. Spencerville’s a hoot, full of chasing balls and PB treats. Find me striking poses at Best in Show, or kicking back at Bark ‘n’ Roll. Lulu’s still a spitfire. All fun aside, chasing virtues more than balls, waiting for reunion day at the Great Dog Park. Till then, living the best afterlife! PS: Heaven better taste like PB. Tankers out!”

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Things work differently here in Spencerville, the resting place of pets. I spent my days scampering around Upper Collie Canyon, chasing my squeaky rubber ball that causes such a ruckus, just like the ol’ times. Nothing quite like the echo of a good ‘squeak’ to bring me back to my youth.

Sidling up to the Dog-gone Good BBQ – the joint’s an eternal hotspot with pets, pun intended – I snatch up a hefty serving of peanut butter. Creamy, dreamy, and perfectly tasty. Ever tasted heaven? Well, it tastes like peanut butter, or so I reckon. But don’t speak to me of citrus, not even a quip. We never got around to being buddies; a relationship with a zest too sharp for my liking.

You’ll see me often at Best in Show Photography, posing for a snapshot or two. The folks there have a soft spot for my heart-shaped forehead marking and gray face. They say it adds a ‘dash of dignified charm.’ Not very bulldog-like I know, but there you are.

I’ll sometimes loop by Yappy Yogurt for a sweet end to my day and then head out for a night of camaraderie with my crew at Bark ‘n’ Roll. Tank, the aged bulldog with a peculiar penchant for yappy yogurts? Quite the reputation.

Max, the Golden Retriever, and Scruffy, the cat with whiskers that could start a Spanish galleon, often join us. Scruffy has yet to learn that whiskers in his milk bowl are a big no-no. And quite the sight is old Max, yapping away thanks to too much yogurt.

My heart, though, holds a special place for my sibling, Lulu. Still cheeky with her fur of fire, she’s been my ally in all things bark-n’-roll.

Now don’t let these mundane moments mislead you. I constantly strive to be a dog of virtue, embracing my afterlife in Spencerville with the wag of my tail and passion in my heart. After all, even in the afterworld, becoming a better pet isn’t just about chasing rubber balls or avoiding lemons. It’s about companionship and waiting for your people, until that perfect day, by the Great Dog Park, when you gallop back into their arms. Until then, as life (or should I say afterlife?) goes on in Spencerville, we pets savour these bittersweet moments.

Heaven can’t be much better than this, I’m sure. Then again, heaven has been known to surprise. Here’s to hoping it tastes like peanut butter.

The End.