“Hey Mom, took a cosmic detour today with Chloe. Turns out, our little Clodog’s more than a pet, she’s Mayor of Spencerville! Time hopping and dimension trotting, she made fetch an intergalactic sport. Saw her at The Woofy Bakery, playing with dogs from the yesteryears. All in a day’s work, really. Spencerville’s not a place, it’s a state of mind and it’s absolutely paw-fect. – Clodog”

Listen to the story here

It was a quirk in time, a cosmic hiccup that swooped down on our regimented life and spoke, whispering with the audacity of a dare that the everyday ain’t gonna be usual anymore. Chloe sparked in quite an extraordinary way, the glow of her eyes saying more than what human words could understand.

“Always trust the weirdness of dogs,” Dad’s voice reverberated in my mind, like a riddle jigsawing its pieces together, as I absent-mindedly watched her silhouette vanish into the brief pulsations of the cosmic door. Bingo, we’re not at our backyard anymore, folks.

Spencerville was a different beast. A town of four-legged scholars with an eye for experience. And who’s the mayor? The gal with a two-tone ensemble, a power-house reflex for tennis balls, the food aficionado — Chloe. Her reputation towers the landscape like a vintage tale of royal legacy- like the Upper West Side Bernese dogs were to New York City.

Rolling the balls down through the Lower Dalmatian Desert, she was fast. Not the Flash, oh no, such trivialities notwithstanding. The tennis ball took a trajectory, spun in this vast open space into a spiral of light, opening portals to varied slices of time with every toss and fetch. Just your usual day with a time-traveling Boston Terrier from another dimension, you know.

This ain’t your usual jaunt in the park. Nossir. It’s a walk through the annals of time, a hodgepodge of a dog’s life; visiting moments like getting her paws on the juiciest beef ribs from Kibble Cuisine to escaping the dreaded bath time with mystifying agility.

Down the Memory Lane in Spencerville, the usual gloom of yesterday’s past morphing into a nostalgic must-see, I spied Chloe with her loyal entourage, Abby and Pebbles at The Woofy Bakery. There they were, giggling at canine jokes across time, Miss Thompson’s Pomeranians from the ’60s storming in for their routine blueberry pies. The innocence of the moment caught me off guard, a tender slice of life sprouted amidst cosmic chaos.

“Imagine! Time’s strange, ain’t it? Lynn never liked to admit it,” I saw the spirit of Thompson in Chloe. The way she took the wheel, a resistance to the traditional canine norms with a chap-like apparel, and the frosting of her love for freedom. That’s Spencerville, baby — from Golden Gate Gardens rides to royal banquets at Northern Choco Chihuahua Castle. From Fetch! Toys and Treats to The Dapper Dog Salon.

Remember, friend, this ain’t an obit. It’s an exploration of an unquenchable spirit through time, embodied in a wickedly mysterious Boston Terrier named Chloe. Spencerville’s a mental state, where love for a pet never dies, it merely transcends through time and realms. As the countdown bell tolls, the parting ain’t sorrowful. Just a prolonged ‘see you later’ till we meet again in this timeless haven.

As the doorways closed, and reality barked back to consciousness, I reckoned these peculiar tales of Spencerville were woven around not just Chloe’s life, but the silent companionship between her and us, forever locked in the annals of time. And as I sit here, in the loneliness of my room, typing away at this story, I tell myself, “One more adventure, boy. Just one more.”

The End.