“Hey fam, remember Larkin and how he loved Spencerville more than he despised lettuce? We had great times there; capering around the woods, admiring toys, and rambling about growing up. Knowing him, he’s probably whooping it up Furrific Fried Chicken. Sure, we’ll miss him. But isn’t that just life in Spencerville, perfect till the end? We’ll meet again, someday. – Baby Girl”

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There it was – another dazzling morning in Spencerville. The sun stretched its rays across Husky Hill and Labradoodle Lake, casting alabaster glow over the White Westie Woods. You must have seen Larkin and me hopping along those very woods myriads of times.

“Sadie,” Larkin would rumble, his dark eyes solemn, “do you ever feel like we ain’t ever going to grow up?”

The thought would make me shudder. Staying puppies forever? No Sir. Us canines live for growing, even if it’s just an inch taller, bristling fur of new shade, or a steep rise in our sense of loyalty.

Now, in case you forgot, Larkin’s a bulldog – an English one at that – with a heart even bigger than his pronounced jowls. His brindle and white fur – oh, you’d spot that anywhere in Spencerville, especially those striking dark patches – a souvenir of his fall season bout with Alpacia. And let’s not forget our trips to The Groom Room after the Monsoon rains, Lord have mercy – the smell. A scrub and puff up later, Larkin would prance out, pretty as a picture, ready to take on Bark ‘n’ Roll’s special for the day.

And trust me, nothing perks him up like food. Just about any food with one – and only one – exception. Lettuce. I’d once teased him, shoving a leaf under his nose while suppressing my giggles. His wrinkled nose twitched, and those expressive eyes glared at me as if I’d committed the worst sacrilege. “Quit it, Sadie,” he’d grumbled, and you best believe we never tried that prank again.

We’d often pass by Pawsitively Purrfect Pet Store, pressing our noses against the window to glimpse the latest toys. Larkin’s humane-set eyes would light up at the sight of the blue bird stuffy, a replica of the one Aunt Jenny had gifted him. Our pockets – or rather our parents’ pockets – would instantly feel the weight lifted, and home we’d trot, triumph in our every step.

As the twilights fell, Larkin and I would trot up to the crest of Husky Hill, surveying the dreamy panorama of Spencerville below. His voice, usually booming, would soften, blending into the wind’s whispers as he murmured, “We’re alright, we’re alright here.” Smart, stubborn dog, my dear cousin.

How can we ever dread growing up in a town like Spencerville, where joy is as endless as belly rubs, and boundless love waves to us from every corner? There really isn’t a thing to worry, and as Larkin would say, “Life’s too short to fetch sticks you don’t love.”

And thus, every morning we’d embrace yet another sunny promise of Spencerville, a place every pet would kill to grow up in. But for Larkin and me, it was home. The best damn home two dogs could ever ask for.

Such thoughts make the goodbye even harder, knowing well that while Larkin gets to dine at Furrific Fried Chicken – his favorite – he’s going to miss us just as we’d miss him. But, ain’t that just the beauty of Spencerville? It takes care of our loved ones until we see them again. To you, my dear friend, enjoy your time there while I keep our spot warm here. We’ll meet again, Larkin. Someday.

The End.