“Hey Dad, guess who played the four-legged James Bond today? Yup, it’s your Bubba Bentley! Dug into action when Munchkin was missing, set up a plan with Russell, and fetched our rescued friend back home, all while keeping my belly full. Who knew bravery tasted a lot like Doggy Delight’s special? Mission ‘Get Munchkin’ accomplished. Love, your handsome hero, Bubs.”

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First thing you gotta know about Bentley is he’s got a heart of gold, but the brain of a circus peanut. A real go-getter, that one, never knew a dug hole too deep or a barbeque too taboo for his insatiable snout.

So, we’re chilling at our hotspot, the Western Husky Hill when we get the whiff of something fishy. And no, it’s not the scent wafting up from the sea. Mighty Munchikin, our guinea pig compatriot, had been cat-apulted right outta Spencerville. It woulda been funny if it wasn’t so downright disturbing. Bentley, as you’d expect from his role as the protector, snapped to attention.

He whizzes over to me, his doughy body wiggling like spilt jelly. “Russell,” He pants, “Munchkin’s missing! We gotta do something!!”

Knowing him and his bodacious boldness, he was raring to head beyond Spencerville to fetch Munchkin back. I could already see the gears turning in that silly head of his.

We set up a war-room of sorts in Pawsome Pet Pharmacy, courtesy of Tabbie, the cat. She might have been aloof but she knew what was up. Our secret weapon was Bentley’s ability to wriggle into tight spots, lure out perps with his charm, and smack the wits outta trouble creators. He was our four-legged James Bond, minus the suave suit.

Operation ‘Get Munchkin’ was about to commence. He approached it like he did his Jolly Ball – with a lot of game-faced woofs and barks. As for me, well, I’ve been around the water bowl a few times. I was gonna be the brains of this mission, and Bentley the muscle.

We make our covert departure under the cover of nightfall, creeping away from South Poodle Pond toward the beyond. Bentley shot me a goofy grin, a dead-giveaway of the excitement zinging through his veins. Getting sidetracked, he snuffled around a pile of boxes, undeniably hopeful for pizza scraps or hamburger buns. Typical Bentley.

Priority jerked back on track once the silhouette of Munchkin’s captor, a daunting Doberman, hustled past. Bentley swapped his goofy grin for a protective snarl, his former playfulness put on pause. He sent me a hard-nosed “wish me luck” look, belly-crawled up to the Doberman, and masterfully created a diversion.

We managed to scoop up Munchkin, sans harm, while Bentley kept the Doberman busy with a rambunctious game of tug reveal. Oh man, were we lucky he had that Jolly Ball!

It was a sight to see, our triumphant return to Spencerville. Imagine it: two lovable knuckleheads trotting back under the glimmering spectacle of the Spencerville skyline. We pit-stopped at Doggy Delights to satiate Bentley’s heroic hunger.

As for Munchkin, he licked Bentley’s face with such gratitude, you’d think he was coated with honey. The great protector had outdone himself again. Above all else, we learned an unforgettable lesson about putting our fears aside for a friend. No one could have summed it up better than Bentley, his maw full of Doggy Delight’s special: “Good friends…taste better than pizza.”

The End.

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