Hey Mom and Dad,

Guess who’s gone from nap champ to good Samaritan? Yup, it’s your Frankster! I’m swapping snack heists for volunteer vests in Spencerville’s afterlife. Now I’m not just a legend for my snores, but for lending paws to pets in need too. Who knew a pug could level up from furball to philanthropist? Chicken-scented heaven just got a tad more noble, thanks to your lil’ Pumpkin.

Wags and snorts,
Franklin Sir Pugs-A-Lot

Right, then. Heaven smells like chicken – who knew? You’d think clouds and harps, but no, it’s unmistakably roast chicken wafting through the air, and I know I’ve come home. Me, Franklin Sir Pugs-A-Lot, in the fur – well, somewhat greyer now, particularly around the chin.

I suppose I should tell you about my latest escapade here in Spencerville, the sort of earthly encore for the departed four-legged vagabonds like myself. Today was different, though; I woke up with a mission. I’d made a dog’s promise to myself to be better, do better, or at least attempt to dig a little deeper past the surface of the park’s mud.

It all started when I sauntered over to my usual haunt, the dog park, and had the jarring realization that every bench had witnessed my snores and each blade of grass had been privy to my ‘personal business’. Mundane? Perhaps. Comfortable? Absolutely. But was I really making the most of this limbo-luxury? A quick, reflective glance at my trusty dragon plushie (who’d seen better days), and I knew it was time to shake things up. No more just lying about, it was time to chase the proverbial car.

Spotting Al from Greyhound Grove, I trotted over, catching him in the middle of hatching a new, harebrained scheme to steal treats from Bark and Bites. “Franklin!” he barked, “You in?” Normally, I’d wag my tail to the beat of his manic energy, but today I paused, giving him a look that said ‘new leaf’, though it might have come across more ‘needing to pee’. “Actually, Al, I’m thinking it’s time for us to contribute, not just consume.”

The look he gave me was akin to what I imagine my face is like during bath time – sheer, unadulterated horror. But his expression softened when Lulu, the Labrador from Lower Dalmatian Desert, joined us. “What’s this I hear about you turning good boy, Franklin?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with equal parts curiosity and mischief.

You see, everyone knew Franklin Sir Pugs-A-Lot for his uncanny ability to remain unmoved unless chicken was involved. And here I was, speaking of… well, moral improvement, without a drumstick in sight. This was uncharted territory.

“We could volunteer at The Pawsome Pet Pharmacy,” I suggested. “Help others get their meds, maybe even learn not to flinch at the sight of a bath?”

Al scoffed, “A bath? You want to spend our afterlife being virtuous, and you start with a bath?” But Lulu chimed in, “I think it’s a brilliant idea. It’s not about the bath, Al. It’s about facing fears, showing care. I’m in.”

And just like that, I had a volunteer brigade – albeit a tiny one.

It wasn’t long before we became the talk of the town, as words like ‘selfless’ started being tossed around, usually in the same sentence as my name, which was…new. Sure, I still enjoyed a tug-of-war, and nothing could pry my dragon plushie from my paws, but it felt gratifying, giving back a bit of that chicken-scented heaven.

Days turned to weeks, and I’d become somewhat of a local hero. Not that I was in it for the glory, mind you, but there’s something about being gazed at with admiration instead of being looked down upon for scavenging leftovers on East Bulldog Bay that left me feeling…proud. And it turned out that altruism suited me almost as well as my signature curled tail – who would have thought?

Each sun-kissed morning in Spencerville brought new challenges, fresh faces to care for, and a growing sense that I was making the wait a bit more pleasant for all of us here, one wag, one woof at a time. And, dare I say, I was starting to get the hang of this Good Pet business – turns out, there was much more to afterlife than I’d ever imagined. There was potential for growth, potential for joy and now, even potential to inspire.

So here I am, Franklin Sir Pugs-A-Lot, a reformed scavenger turned Samaritan, living out my eternity with a renewed sense of purpose. As for that reunion with the family, well, that’s a wagging tail for another day. For now, I’ve got a benevolent bone to pick with destiny – and, between us, it tastes even better than chicken.

The End.