Hey Mom and Dad,

Your ‘Bear Cub’ reporting here from Spencerville. Life’s going great with the pen and the pups. My days – a blend of writing, walkies & wrestles, sandwiches & pupsicles, and of course, the eternal wait for the daily dental bone. Did my special flour decor in the kitchen too. But, that’s Vincent’s life for you – full of furry fun and doggy delicacies. Catch you soon!

Love, Vincent 🐾

Listen to the story here

I woke up that morning to the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting down from the kitchen. As I got up, rubbing the remnants of sleep out of my eyes, I nearly tripped over Vincent, the hulking Newfoundland slumbering peacefully by my bed.

“Get up, Vinny,” I laughed as I toed him gently. He cracked open an eye, gave me a look that clearly implied, ‘you’ve got to be kidding me,’ and nestled back into the folds of his blanket. No coffee-inspired enthusiasm for this old dog. His love affair was with the slightly softer pillow he called a couch.

I spent the day, as an aspiring writer, at the kitchen table, typing furiously. Every so often, I’d find myself pausing my typing and staring out of the window watching as our forever family, in Spencerville, the Pugs over at the Pupsicle Palace cooling down their rolls by stuffing their faces with some of those ridiculously oversized pupsicles. The Golden Retrievers waiting in line at The Fetching Deli, debating which sandwich filling would taste best.

Vincent spent his day on his enthusiastically claimed couch. He might have given Niagra falls a run for its money with the volume of his snoring. He, in his own way, was helping me with my writing, proving that silence really is not golden.

Around dusk, we’d stroll into our backyard, his aching joints forcing him to walk at a gentle pace. I’d sprinkle doggie biscuits around the yard for him to find. A private little hunt for treasures– his nose quivered with excitement, flicking to and fro, searching for the next delicious morsel. He’d ignore the other critters running around, indulging in their sports. He was a dog with a mission.

We’d come back inside when the cold would start seeping into my bones. Watching him romp with Victoria, his loyal rescue sister, I’d fight the urge to dive into their boisterous tangle of fur. He’d pause every now and then, sniffing the air, waiting for his favorite time of the day.

You could set a clock to his routine. Vincent would settle on the floor, eyes pinned to the ticking clock, awaiting his daily dental bone. Like a schoolkid in front of a candy store. One sharp turn of the minute hand and he’d trot to my side, a drooling mess of anticipation. His wet nose nudging me as if to say, ‘C’mon human! It’s bone time!’

The comforting familiarity of my life in Spencerville, my enduring Newfoundland, my loving companions and my motley crew of friends… they filled my days with joy, laughter, and the occasional irritation when Vincent decided to bless the kitchen floor with bags of flour. But hey, that’s life in Spencerville, and that’s just how I love it. After all, everyone knows a family that plays together, stays together. Even if that play involves tearing up a Costco-size bag of pasta in under ten seconds. That’s our Vincent for you!

The End.

Share This Story: