Hey Mom, just had the wildest adventure in Pawsburgh. Did my midnight dash there, hit Boxer Beach where my T-Rex toy decided to come alive. No biggie! Then hit Poodle Pond but only dipped my toes, too fancy for me. Did my usual feasting at Dog-gone Good BBQ, ignored the lattes at Paws-A-Latte and instead focused on chicken at K9 Kebabs. After all that, had to get cleaned up at The Pampered Pooch Salon, don’t even ask about the chicken mess. Was even a star at Best in Show Photography, could not escape the paw-parazzi! Waved adios to my friends as dawn broke, and ‘poof’, magically back in our yard for some pool time. Life’s pretty grand, wouldn’t you agree?

Love, Toots.

As the clock struck midnight, I could hear the all-too-familiar creaking of the backyard gate—Paloma was off to Pawsburgh again. Can’t blame her really! Who wouldn’t enjoy a stealthy trip to that magical city where every dog has his day, literally?

Next thing I knew, we were at Boxer Beach, a doggie paradise if there ever was one. Paloma dug her toes into the sand while her favorite toy, the stuffed T-Rex, morphed into a sentient, albeit friendly, beast. And boy, did they know how to stir up a storm! “Guys, cut it out!” I pleaded, laughing. “We don’t want a T-Rex-tussle now, do we?”

Suddenly, the desert around us transformed into the luxurious Poodle Pond, filled with frothy waters that burbled merrily under the twinkling Pawsburgh sky. Paloma, the royal that she is, paddled carefully, indulging only her paw-tips for the experience. “Water ain’t my style,” she seemed to say, leading us away to the heart of Pawsburgh, to Dog-gone Good BBQ.

Ah! The mouth-watering aroma of grilled chicken never fails to send dear old Paloma into a frenzy. She licked her lips and gobbled as much barbecue as her little tummy could hold. “You and chicken. Like Bogie and Bacall!” I joked, patting her head.

Paws-A-Latte was the next pit-stop, and despite the fresh aroma of ‘dog-coffee’, Paloma was having none of it. “They should really try chicken-flavored lattes,” she seemed to suggest, her eyes checking out the neighboring K9 Kebabs, her thoughts obviously on another helping of her favorite bird.

By the time we reached The Pampered Pooch Salon, Paloma had chicken smeared all over herself. “A dog’s got to do what a dog’s got to do,” I shrugged, and she got her makeover. If they gave out medals for a myriad of contradictions, my sweet Paloma would’ve bagged a few.

We strolled past Best in Show Photography, where a bunch of paparazzi dogs huddled together. They started barking and snapping away, seeing Paloma. “Bone-a-fide celebrities, the lot of you!” I chuckled, ruffling Paloma’s fur with pride. She, in return, gave a regal wave of her paw.

As dawn approached, Paloma barked a farewell to her comrades Natty, Guiness and Kahlua, the joyous echo travelling through the heart of the magical city. Balance was soon restored as we found ourselves back in our backyard, the sight of her pool making Paloma’s face light up again.

“Oh Paloma, Pawsburgh really suits you.” I laughed. As for the bulldog in question, she yawned, stretched, and padded off towards her favorite sunbathing spot, chicken-scented dreams already filling her head.

What a dog’s life!

The End.