Hey Mom,

Had quite the adventure trying to snag an Everlasting PB Kong for Lucee—ran into beach contests, French Bulldog Twins, and sold-out bakeries. Long story short, ended up with Lucee in a Kong-toppled boutique then shared Fur Tacos at Whiskers and Wings. Lesson learned: sometimes family chaos is better than treasure hunting. 🐕🐾

Zaneyboy

Ah, a heavenly day in Spencerville it was, with the sun winking at me like we shared a secret. I, Zane, a noble and occasionally slobbery mastiff, had a plan that was simple in its genius: acquire the legendary Extra-Strength Everlasting Peanut Butter-Filled Kong from The Woofy Bakery and surprise my dear diminutive sister Lucee at The Snooty Snout Boutique. Straightforward, right? Well, that’s where the tail bends.

You see, my morning started as any other, with a stretch that could put yoga instructors to shame and a casual stroll down Biscuit Boulevard, but it wasn’t long before I crossed paths with Bernie, the playful pug with a penchant for misinformation. “Zane!” he yapped. “Did you hear about the prize hidden in a Kong ball at the Fetch Fiesta on Brown Boxer Beach? It’s filled with endless peanut butter!”

My ears perked up. Peanut butter? Prize? Kong ball? All my favorite words in one sentence! Before I could say “woof,” my legs were taking me beachward, my grand plan knocked sideways like a cat in a yarn shop.

Upon arrival, the beach was abuzz with canines, each one sniffing about and digging like they were hunting for a bone to the center of the earth. Turns out the “Fetch Fiesta” was a contest where pooches dug for a treasure. One golden Kong ball containing the aforementioned bounty of peanut butter bliss. But here’s the rub – they invited a guest, none other than the Fancy French Bulldog Twins, Henri and Pierre. Known for nothing if not their fashion sense and their telepathically synchronized way of snatching victory in every contest.

Well, as fate would have it, I met these twins eye to respectable eye patch. “Bonjour, monsieur,” they wagged in unison. “Ready to lose?” they quipped.

I grinned, a somewhat slobbery affair, and dove into the hunt with gusto. Sand flew everywhere. I found tennis balls, squeaky toys, even someone’s lost boot (who loses a boot at the beach, I ask you?). But no peanut butter-filled Kong.

Tiring of the hunt, I lumbered back townward, proceeding to The Woofy Bakery. They greeted me with cheerful barks, but seemed perplexed when I asked for the Everlasting Peanut Butter Kong. “Why Zane,” said the terrier behind the counter, her head tilt at a degree worthy of philosophy, “we sold the last one this morning to none other than Lucee!”

Imagine that! Lucee, shopping? She has the fashion sense of a cat distracted by a shiny object. Regardless, I bounced over to The Snooty Snout Boutique, certain she’d be there, flaunting her find among the feline finery. But once inside, the place was mayhem! A chorus of hisses and barks sung opera. Lucee, perched magnificently atop a heap of Kongs, clutched mine — the last Everlasting Peanut Butter Kong — in her little paws.

A standoff ensued. Not understanding this dog’s love for peanut butter, she mistook my drooly yearning for envy of her grand pyramid. Construction work, I tell you, for she had created a masterpiece, rivaled only by the great Sphinx. Well, perhaps that’s a stretch, but for a kitty, it was impressive.

In my attempt to trade for the Kong, I knocked over her pyramid. Chaos reigned as her half-tail swished in displeasure. The room spun, a vortex of Kongs and disgruntled animals of assorted pedigree. And in that whirlwind, I admit, the Kong slipped through my paws…

Cut to the chase, or rather, the chew, we ended up at Whiskers and Wings, consoling ourselves over plates of Fur Tacos. Lucee had her fish; I had my taco garnished with a touch of peanut butter. Not everlasting, but delicious all the same.

The moral of the tale? If the beach gives you boots, you might as well walk to dinner. And if a pug tips you off about hidden treasure, remember that the real prize may just be sharing a taco with the fuzzy embodiment of ornery elegance you’re proud to call family.

The End.