Hey Ma, Pa, Jazzy man here. Made a name for myself in Spencerville. Ditched popcorn for veggies at Bone Appetit, sunbathed like a champ, avoided the pool. Strutting my pug stuff with Earl, Tess, and co. Life’s got its ruffs, but I’m navigating it like a pug with wisdom. Finding my place under the sun one day at a time. With love, Pup-signed, Jazzy man.

Listen to the story here

Like all grand tales in good ‘ol Spencerville, it begins with a pug named Jasmine, a charming dame with a heart tucked neatly under her front legs – half of it, at least. Now Jasmine wasn’t your run-of-the-mill pug, you see – she had a fondness for popcorn and french fries, and a dislike for pineapple and blueberries quite uncanny for a canine.

“So that’s Jasmine,” they’d note, dining at Pup-Tizers, she opting for greasy delights while the others partook in a blueberry medley. “Takes all sorts to make a world.”

Now, it’s no surprise that Spencerville attracts a particular crowd. Earl might take a dog-paddle around Corgi Castle, while Tess sunbathes atop Husky Hill, but Jasmine had peculiar tastes. She had a fear of the pool, a hatred for ear cleaning and a fondness for the sun that was borderline fanatical.

“That’s Jasmine,” I’d sigh, rescuing her cherished lambchop toy from the water as she sunbathed to her heart’s content. “Not a swimmer, our Jasmine.”

Jasmine, true to her pug nature, sought companionship. Her fellow creatures – Pahoehoe, Dotty, Tomas, Panda, Earl, and Tess – were a rowdy lot, parading down the streets of Spencerville with the unassailable confidence of the young and the reckless.

“We’re an interesting group,” I’d chuckle to myself as I watched them from The Barking Boutique, “An unruly but lovable bunch.”

Jasmine and her kin were my constant companions – Ashley and Ell Gee, loyal friends. This motley crew of adventure-seekers and sun worshipers walked together through the path of growing up, of finding their place in this idyllic haven we call Spencerville.

But as life often presents, every day in Spencerville wasn’t sunshine and french fries. Life had its seasons, and it required a certain grace to navigate them. Grit tempered with tenderness, bravery balanced with wisdom. The city park wasn’t always sunny, the car rides not always smooth, but the whimsical tale of Jasmine and her cohorts remained, as she grew into the unique, lovely pug that she was destined to be.

“Matured like a fine cheddar, our Jasmine,” they’d quip at Bone Appetit, when she’d choose veggies over greasy delights for a change. Jasmine, my Jasmine, finding her place under the tender Spencerville sun.

The End.