“Ah, Fenway, old mate!” I cheerfully greet the English Bulldog standing majestically at the edge of Westie Woods. We’re about to embark on another heroic adventure across space and time. Time travel, an everyday activity one wouldn’t think possible for a chubby canine, is the lifeblood of the pets in good ol’ Spencerville.

Fenway’s stubby tail waggles quicker than a hummingbird’s wing at my greeting, but his face tells a different story. A look of concentrated disapproval, or rather, thoughtful judgment; a reputation once earned on a chilly day when he hopped into the time canine-abulator and ended up neck-deep in the Siberian Summit snow. That catastrophe led him to the path of stubbornness and claimed him the title: ‘the bulldog who refused to be bullied by a catalyst.’ Ever since, he’s been the master of his own whims, reiterating the notion that not every dog’s paradise involves a freezing mountain slope.

“You got the coordinates, mate?” I ask, shifting my gaze to the unassuming tennis ball he nudges toward me. Strikingly ordinary, yet within lies the universe—no ordinary fetch ball, this. It’s our ticket across multiple timelines. When he barks in affirmation, I toss the cosmic ball into the canine-abulator’s gaping maw.

With a flash, we land just right outside the Paws On The Grill. The smell of grilled chicken pervades the chronotope air, turning even the most stubborn wrinkles on Fenway’s face into a hopeful grin. I watch him savor the aroma, his enjoyment starkly contrasted by the dollar cookies he holds dearly. Bananas are rarely exported to this timeline, much to his glee, as he doesn’t favor the taste.

We traverse various eras together, ghosting past the Lower Dalmatian Desert transformed into an oasis of pet joy. One sight of this land, and Fenway starts to wag his tail more vigorously, sensing an encounter with his motley crew.

“Ah, Fat Russell,” I nod respectfully to the brindle English Bulldog who’s already ordered us a round of ‘pet pints’ at the local Pup ‘n’ Go Taco Joint. The gaggle of friends swells with the arrival of Spencer and Barkley, their narration and wit drowning the bar in humor. Toys and food contests lighten things up, till Lil Dot’s musical performance turns the evening solemn again.

And yet, here and there, we still have the unpleasant bits (or as I like to call it, our ‘fracas with frayed timelines’). Delivery persons from the wrong eras are the worst, but the vet visits are no picnic either. Just a small price for the thrill of time-hopping, we remind ourselves, as we shake off bath-time catastrophes and rain-drenched misadventures.

But it is the eventual return that we cherish most, for the calm of familiarity is a balm after a time travel’s chaos. We find ourselves in the backyard of the Tail Wagger’s Tailor Shop, with Sampson and Marley joyously wrecking chaos—our return, the grand finale to another romp across the sands of time and space.

Back in Westie Woods, as the warm glow of the den enveloped us, we relive the day’s adventures, a tale as old as time, yet fresh every dawn, here in Spencerville.

“Hey Mom & Dad, it’s Fenway. Just wanted to wag my tale about my day. Buddy & I hopped around time today, from our hood in Spencerville to the Siberian Summit (you know I hate the cold). Fun spot: Paws On The Grill (the grilled chicken, yum). Dodged bananas though & chilled with Russell & the gang at Pup ‘n’ Go. Lil Dot’s gig was soulful. Some delivery hiccups & those dreaded vet visits, but it’s all in a day’s work for a time-jumping bulldog, right? Came back to home base and realized there really is no place like home. Another doggone happy day! Licks from Fenny.”

Listen to the story here.