“Hey Mom and Dad, just lounging on my throne here in Spencerville. Kept the dental bone routine and still not a fan of toys or ear cleaning, but give me a cupboard raid any day. Me and Princess Vic still ruling the roost. Sending love and doggy kisses from your favorite messy Newfoundland, Bear Cub.”

Listen to the story here

Affectionately known as Vincent to those who were privileged to have his acquaintance, the Newfoundland with a heart rivaling the enormity of his body, is a headliner in Spencerville. To quote from my dear friend Harriet, “he’s got enough nobility to make a knight jealous.” Vincent was a spectacle of contrasting hues – white and black, peppered with freckles; a visual testament to a character that is as grand as his 170lb monolithic frame.

He’d been through tougher times, life issuing a deck of cards that might break a lesser spirit. But Vincent, he took it and reshaped it, turning the adversities into a mantle of honor. It was intriguing to witness how a soul who’d seen so much hardship, wrapped itself in a blanket of serenity. He made a fortress out of the couch, lounging in it like an emperor surveying his kingdom.

Vincent’s nightly ritual? A dental bone. Some found it peculiar – a dental bone for a night-cap. But it was his thing, and it rendered rare hints of child-like zest. His adoring human parents, my neighbors, couldn’t have asked for a more loyal companion. And that Saint Bernard he was rescued with – Princess Victoria, his sibling in arms, their bond was as thick as thieves. Their tales one of bravery and resilience that could have very well been chapters straight out of a Dickens novel.

Ever the minimalist, Vincent never really fancied toys. Except for one – a pickle treat toy. His ears would shoot up at the mere mention of it. He treasured experiences that lingered in scent and memory. A walk through the park, the ephemeral adrenaline of a car ride, or quiet meditation in his yard – these were his priceless treasures.

Ironically though, this dog who lacked affinity for toys particularly loved getting messy – foraging in cupboards for flour and pasta. Left the entire kitchen looking like a battlefield in the aftermath of a food fight. But, try cleaning his ears, and boy, he could give the grumpiest cat a run for its money!

Vincent’s paradise, Spencerville, accommodated him like a prodigal son. Noisy and stormy as it was sometimes, he wouldn’t trade it for the world. He had his dislikes: beaches, deserts, farms – not that we had any in Spencerville, but still, he did not care for any place that wasn’t ‘his Spencervile’. Here, his tales of affection and valor live on in the chatter of old friends at The Barkery, in the silhouettes of canine companions sauntering toward Bow Wow Bistro, and in the shadows that play on the Sundrenched Fawn Pug Palace at dusk. This uncharted territory of magic and memory, was the world of our beloved Vincent.

The End.