“Morning Dad, it’s your Fleabag here. Woke up to a weird sight today near our usual spot, the Yellow Tan Dalmatian Desert. City slickers dumped something from ‘The Pawsome Pet Pharmacy’ – trust me, it wasn’t awesome. Heard them laugh about ‘taking care of the population.’ Uh-oh! We were just reclaiming T-bones yesterday, now it seems we’re defending Spencerville! Our tails are not just for wagging, they signal war. So tomorrow’s bark might not just be me missing you but a battle cry. Hugs, Fur-baby Perce.”

Listen to the story here.

It’s the edge of dawn when Spencerville awakens. I find myself in my favorite hideout, the Westie Woods, our vaunted forest reserve bubbling with wildlife. The anticipation of the day numbs the nip in the air. My nose hovers over the dew-frosted grass, the scent of impending adventure teasing my senses.

Life in Spencerville’s not too shabby for an Entlebucher Mountain Dog; there’s plenty of mischief to cook up. Just yesterday, I had liberated an entire T-Bone steak from the Chow Hound Café. The cook’s howl of annoyance was just the cherry on top. Antiquated delivery trucks dotted along the rural roads make the perfect targets for some good old chase. It’s a game, shaking up those poor souls, but hey, a dog’s gotta have some fun, right?

But today, the air feels thick, laden with a foreboding silence. As I scan the horizon, an unfamiliar vehicle barrels down the gravel road — A sparkling Porshuman, windows shaded, engine revving, a beast that screams ‘city-life.’ It sticks out like a cat at a dog show.

The car stops abruptly near the Yellow Tan Dalmatian Desert, its chrome silhouette stirring up the tranquil landscape. Two shadowy figures emerge from the car bearing in their hands a box emblazoned with the logo of “The Pawsome Pet Pharmacy.” Something sinister about that box sends shivers down my spine; I’ve heard enough tales of unexplained sicknesses tearing through fellow comrades and the investigation trails all leading back to Spencerville’s shops.

I freeze, my protective streak awakened, and watch cautious and taut as the men throw the box into a hidden alcove in the desert. Struck by a horrifying possibility, I suppress the urgent need to protect, to expose this looming threat. Nimble and silent, I tread towards them, my mind buzzing with a terrifying cocktail of fear and adrenaline.

The silence is broken by a gravelly voice, “That should take care of the population, imagine the state of this town when they find out.”

Then, laughter.

In this perilous instant, Spencerville isn’t an idyllic paradise. It’s a battleground, threatened by callous greed. Each pet unwitting warriors in a battle they didn’t even know existed. My heart clenches with dread, aren’t we all here waiting to reunite with our families, living our second chance to the fullest? The fraud stings. But the fear, the fear gallops through my veins, pricking my senses alive.

By the time the sun begins to set over the Shih Tzu Stadium, the Porshuman has faded into a speck against the skyline. But its memory rages through me, a painfully poignant reminder of the mission my brothers and I now shoulder. I look towards the Yellow Tan Dalmatian Desert, a warm sigh steaming in the cool air, the challenge before us, stark and daunting.

The heroes of this town don’t wear capes. They wear leashes and tails and weigh lesser than a hundred pounds. But underestimate us, and you face our fangs.

As I greet the new day, the earth waking from its slumber, an iron resolve surges within me. We shall protect our homeland, come what may. After all, we aren’t just pets, we are guardians of Spencerville. The war waged against our small town has begun, and the victory shall be ours, a dog’s tale indeed.

Beware, dear friends. Every bark you hear isn’t always an echo of joy but a call to arms. Never forget, we’re not just dogs, we are the heart of Spencerville.

The End.