“Dad, thwarted a sinister broccoli coup today. Fought tooth and nail, or should I say tail, to save the town’s rubber bone in a battle of barks vs broccoli. Police pupper politics aren’t my bowl of kibble but did it for the love of Spencerville. All’s well, the bone still reigns and broccoli was banished! Wagging tails triumph once again. – Banjo, your Golden Boy.”

Listen to the story here.

I woke up that morning to the early light of Spencerville, a town where paws are passports and the citizens wag their tails more than their tongues. Stepping onto the porch, I took in the view of Golden Gate Gardens, its animated blooms swaying as if inviting me for another day of adventure. Today was another day in the life of yours truly, Banjo, Spencerville’s golden boy. And, boy, do I have a tale to tell you.

Having showered at Boxer Beach and satisfied my chomping jaws at Chow Down Chow Chow’s buffet, I ducked through Ruff n’ Ready for the much-needed incognito hat. “Politics had become a sinister blood sport”, I’d once overheard a Scottish terrier remark at The Wagging Tail Bookstore. I wasn’t going to be the lab caught off guard. As I strutted off, the retriever in me bristled with anticipation.

My next stop was East Pug Palace where my grumpy partner, Otis, was waiting. Despite his somber demeanor, Otis was a true canine comrade. We had a mission, a political one, mind you. And it sent ripples down every furrowed bark and kennel of Spencerville.

The mission was only whispered in hushed tones, known simply as “Operation Bone Retrieval.” The town council had decided that our infamous rubber bone, a symbol of unity and camaraderie was to be taken down, and replaced with a statue of a—a towering broccoli! The horror of it had nearly made me choke on my Sunday steak, and the town’s unanimous growl could be heard in the next county. They argued something about improving relations with the vegetable-loving pets, a perceived unity. But Spencerville wasn’t going to have it, not with the broccoli!

So there we were, Otis and I, stepping into the heart of canine politics with only our incognito hats and a determination that could rival a bulldog on a stakeout. Rubbing barks with the who’s who of Spencerville wasn’t my usual roof raising. I preferred bounding through Hyland Creek Park to schmoozing at Kibble Cuisine. But drastic times call for drastic measures, and when it came to my beloved rubber bone toy, even diplomacy had claws.

The meeting was held at the Pawfect Training Center, replaced instead for that evening by a heated debate on the future of the bone. I glimpsed many familiar muzzles and tails, each with their stance. Of course, the council had their arguments, something about forging a new order in Spencerville. But our bone was more than just a symbol. It was our blessed beacon, our familiar north.

When Otis took the stand, something remarkable happened. He spoke a language that transcended our canine voices, echoing in our hearts. His words about friendship, about cherishing the essence of Spencerville resonated through the room. And I followed, nodding gravely and wearing my heart on my sniffing nose.

Did we save our bone? Well, dear listener, let’s just say when the morning dawned after that long night of political maneuvering, a golden Labrador and a grumpy Basset woke up to the sight of their beloved rubber bone, still safe and significantly, still in Spencerville. Politics had never tasted so sweet.

The End.