Hey Mom, it’s your Queen, Tara. Went to the usual spots today. Sun shining high, just the way I like it. Saw my fav painting at the Gallery, even Dental Dinosaur! Lol. Guessed what’s hotter than the sun here? Town’s politics at Bow Wow Burgers, but you know me, keepin’ my cool. Stopped by Pampered Pooch, but missed the dirty fun of treasure hunting in our backyard. And guess what, it started to drizzle. You know I ain’t a fan! 😉 Spencerville’s spinning its usual madness, but it’s all good. Same ol’, same ol’.

Love always,
Terrible Tara Bull 🐾

As I left Fawn Pug Palace, a reminder of Tara echoed all over Spencerville like a loud unseen ghost. Good ol’ Tara, a petite French Bulldog, pied-marked and more intelligent than half the humans in the room, yet genial and never condescending. Spencerville had always been a haven for her breed, a nearly perfect place for their unique dynamics.

The day was the same as yesterday, the same as it’ll be tomorrow. The sun was laughing from a cloudless sky, and the town was buzzing with its usual madness. I was moseying down to get my morning jolt from Chow Hound Café when I spot those icy eyes of hers. It was a dream, only it wasn’t. This town was Tara’s portrait.

Now Tara had never been a cozy homegirl. Nah, this ol’ lady, she was a road junkie, with an itch that’s never scratched. She loved the breeze, the smell of life whizzing by. On rough days, she’d just hop in the car and head out, city or beach. Only thing missing was Thelma to her Louise. The only cap on her wanderlust was anything resembling mountains or deserts. Tara was a peculiar gal; her world revolved around tales spun from her preferences and aversions, and she had plenty of both.

The day shot into mid-afternoon, and Tara’s spirit curled around me as I entered The Furry Friends Art Gallery. A painting hung there, a testament to Tara’s favorite pastime. What dog wouldn’t dig up the wonders in their backyard? But Tara, she relished every bit of it. A delicate investigation it was, the precision of an archaeologist combined with the excitement of a treasure hunter.

At the corner of the gallery, I spotted her favorite toy, Dental Dinosaur, its rubber skin chewed into another topography marking Tara’s territory. Exiting the gallery, I spotted a grey sky brewing; it suddenly hit me how Tara hated the snow and rain, how it was like the plague to her. She wasn’t one for getting her paws messy or wet, uncharacteristic for her breed, but then again, Tara was more than her breed. She was unique, an enigma in this crazy town of Spencerville.

Politics and subterfuge swirled around the town like a hurricane. Bow Wow Burgers was ringing with concealed whispers of government drama. Foreshadowing winds ran wild across town, carrying with them an anticipation that jumpy Spencervillians had been curiously dreading, the upcoming election of Spencervile’s Mayor. Oh, Tara, if you were here. Despite the doggy chaos, Tara held her cards close to her chest, her loyalty unwavering, a beacon of stability amidst this political turmoil.

As the day faded into a gentle evening, I retired to The Pampered Pooch Salon, the last bastion of the day. Though Tara was undoubtedly a lady, the salon was less her turf. She was raw, she was real. Her distaste for frivolous fuss was as prominent as her disdain for swimming. It always reminded me of her, distinctly unenthused at the notion of playing fetch in the water.

It’s said, dogs while away time in Spencerville until their humans join them. It’s also said that rain in Spencerville is teardrops of pets waiting for their beloved humans. One thing is true, though. Spencerville isn’t merely a town but a memoir of pets who touched our lives. I exited the salon and looked up. Rain had started to drizzle. I smiled, “Easy there, Tara. I ain’t making a splash today.”

The End.