“Hey Mom, ran rings around Luna, Graeme, and that spry Collie, Benjie today! A cat almost tripped me up, but hared around it and fetched the bone by the lake, making me the star of Spencerville games. Now at Fur Tacos, nose-deep in victory pork steak. Who’s the champion Lurcher now? Love, Ralphie.”

Listen to the story here.

Early morning in Spencerville was like the high note of jazz, soft, rushing, and brimming with anticipation. It was there, on the crisp grass by Greyhound Grove, that Ralphie found himself at the break of dawn, pig-shaped toy in his mouth, all pumped up for the game of games. Pools weren’t his style, but this, this was adventure wrapped in a day, a meaty pork steak of an opportunity that he wasn’t gonna leave to the cats. Hell no!

The island was deserted, as quiet as bath times back home, no vacuum cleaner to be seen, which was a consolation. But the game had to be played. He had Moosey for company, and every nuzzle felt like a hushed cheerleader in his corner.

The gang was prepped. Luna and Graeme, oh they were tough opponents. And Benjie, that lively collie, was ready to play, tail wagging like a flag on a windy day. But Ralphie, as brave and bold as a lion, didn’t flinch. He lived on his own terms, and today, this island was his playground.

The first challenge was inspired by the twists and turns leading up to Labradoodle Lake. A quick race to the lake, retrieve a bone, and back again. The beach-side view, though soothing, was a distraction. Ralphie had to stay on point. He remembered the tastiest chicken, the enticing sausages, and goodness, the thought of the victorious feast waiting back at Fur Tacos. It was all Ralphie needed to get his mojo rolling.

And roll he did. As the whistle blew, Ralphie darted, his elegant agility slicing the wind. The others followed but it was becoming a rather routine sight, Ralphie taking the lead. The scent of the bone was becoming clearer and more familiar. Everything felt like home, it felt like Spencerville.

Just as he thought he could have this in the bag, a cat smeared in paint the color of the sandy beach emerged from the bushes. Ralphie stopped, dead in his tracks. He was taken aback, much like that dreadful solitary time back home. It was a test. Tests, just as a certain Thompson would say, measure the unknown against the known, and in that moment, Ralphie stood face to face with the unknown.

But as we already know, Ralphie is brave and a bloody good athlete. He picked his toy and took the challenge head-on, detouring around the cat, into the bushes, traversing the tough terrain, and made his way to the bone by the lake, with enough time to make it back to the starting position.

Back at the field, every bark was a cheer for Ralphie. Even the competitors seemed to celebrate his victory. It was a glorious moment, shimmering under the afternoon sun with victory in its air, a tale to be retold time and again in the streets of Spencerville, at The Bark Shak, or maybe, The Doggy Depot.

That evening, as Ralphie celebrated his victory bite at Fur Tacos, chewing into the succulent pork steaks, he looked around, it was Spencerville, everything he’d cherished and then some. It was life, as he knew it, fulfilling and adventurous, just as it should be.

The End.