“Hey Dad, had an epic adventure with Herc. Moonlight frolic at Red Beagle Beach with the pack, then noshed on steak at Chow Down Chow Chow. Averted a culinary catastrophe from Earl-Cleanin’ Eats. Scary detour at haunted Chihuahua Castle rocked us, but a daring tug-of-war under its shadow rallied the troops. Guess we’re all just Hercules’ buddies here in Pawsburg. Regards, Teddy Bear.”

Listen to the story here.

I reckon if any dog could talk, it would be my stout buddy Hercules. He’s got an expression mightily close to the human, and most days, he’s the one herding me around, right proper-like.

One evening, as the darkness wrapped around Pawsburg, Hercules gave me one of them intense stares, begging for a nighttime adventure. Pawsburg springs to life under the moonlight, where all tail-waggers sneak off for late-night mischief and fun.

“Might as well get cracking then,” I said.

Our first stop was the Red Beagle Beach. Blessed with a scarlet glow under the soft moonlight, the beach is a festive spot for water-loving hounds. Hercules, being a bit averse to water, kept mostly on the sandy stretch, occasionally growling in the direction of the dance-like wave frolics. But his charm served to attract attention, his friends Margaux, Beatzie, Boss, Coco, and the brawny Tank all bounded toward us, their leaps silhouetted against the red-tinged moon.

As the evening rolled in, we decided grub was calling us. Amidst the assortment of tantalizing eateries Pawsburg offered, Hercules led us unerringly down to Chow Down Chow Chow, renowned for their juicy steaks and tantalizing tilapia. He sniffed excitedly at the delectable aromas wafting from the place, completely ignoring Pooched Potatoes across the street. Guess the boy does have his limits.

However, Hercules’s joy turned to defiance when an unexpected delivery came in from Earl-Cleanin’ Eats, a takeaway joint he particularly dislikes. His usual bulwark-like demeanor absent, Hercules skedaddled towards the opposite end of town, his friends following suit.

Barely had we escaped from the offending aroma, when we found ourselves in the imposing shadow of the Chihuahua Castle. A chill ran down Hercules’s stocky spine, and by association, mine. The Castle, outlined eerily by the moon, with its empty, stony eyes and howling drafts, was the stuff of dog nightmares. Even the ordinarily fearless Tank whimpered softly somewhere near the back of the pack. The sudden sound of thunder didn’t exactly print calico kittens into our hearts either.

In the terrifying cacophony of the incoming storm and the Castle’s foreboding aura, Hercules surprisingly found calm. His fear abated, replaced by his instinctual desire to protect his band of friends. Like some kind of supernatural charm, a game of tug-of-war commenced right there, under the Castle’s scornful gaze, with Hercules’s prized chew toy. The storm and anxiety all forgotten, replaced by the undeniable joy of pure play.

As for me? Well, I followed suit. ‘Cause you see, in Pawsburg, I reckon I’m just another one of Hercules’s friends.

The End.