Hey Pawsome Pal, Lucy the Fluffy Hustler here 😎. Busy times in Spencerville. Running the petizens’ world ain’t just sniffing butts, you know. Just battled the dreadful Bathmandment 🛁. Oh, the things we bulldogs do for dogmocracy. Paws and love, your very dry (for now), Luce! 🐾

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Chapter One: The Squeaky Rubber Duck Diplomacy

I was hustling about the East Bulldog Bay, my shiny caramel fur reflecting the rich, golden sunshine. I like to believe I bring a certain chicness to Spencerville, like Chelsea Handler but fluffy. I tucked under the distinctive path of the central willow tree, my paws padding softly on the warm sand. Clenched between my teeth, my trusty squeaky rubber duck. It was the symbol of my hard-earned respect among the paltry petizens. The duck was my scepter, my ticket to authority.

“Good morning, Luce!” Molly, as diplomatic as Labradors come, trotted up to me. “Mind if I join you?”

Why does she always have to sound so chirpy in the mornings? I arched a brow, (or tried to, bulldogs aren’t archy), but then again, diplomacy was a demanding gig.

“Morning, Mol,” I responded, aiming to sound friendlier. For a water enthusiast like Molly, the morning dew was as rejuvenating as espresso; for me, it was just—wet.

Tip, the bushy-tail squirrel, scampered around, barely listening. He was our Secretary of Seed Affairs, although to what seeds we didn’t know. He was relentless though, it was like he mistook of my fur furrows for crop fields.

One sunny day, a tense topic was put forward: “Lucy,” Molly prompted, after a prolonged silence. “We need to discuss the ‘Bathmandment’.”

I cringed, my squeaky duck squealed in sympathy. “Why do we need that?”

“Well, cleanliness is next to dogliness,” chimed in Tip, as if he wasn’t clinging on to an acorn for dear life last night.

Molly nodded, “The Spaniel Senate is pushing the Bathmandment, Lucy. Your public image…”

“Are we absolutely sure Spaniels have the upper hand here? They can’t even see past their fringes!” I retorted, my nostrils flaring at the thought of an impromptu puddle party. You can’t just steamroll over my water-phobia like that, Molly, I am a Bulldog!

At Bark Burgers, we tabled the Bathmandment negotiation. As tempting as the smell of their Signature Smokey Biscuits was, the bath awaiting me was an ominous overcast on my mind. Maybe after we agree on Treat Tuesdays legislation and the stick chasing manifesto, we could come back to this topical terror.

Sitting in my warmth cocoon by the cozy fireplace, gnawing my peanut butter-stuffed Kong toy, I chuckled. I know, baths, treacherous waters waiting to soak my dignity. But, a ruler must bow down to their people’s wishes, no matter how soggy it seems. This is democracy. This is Spencerville, folks.

The End.

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