“Hey mate, funny day today! Stole back my squeaky football, rallied the pack to unleash a pea-ban campaign. Had to debate Alfred the Alpha on peas’ evilness, it got intense! Waiting on the verdict. PS: Still got that football; squeeak!🐾
– The Wally Bear Siege, Over & Out”

Listen to the story here.

Today started like any other in Pawsburg. The sun was peeking over Lower Golden Gate Gardens, casting long, playful shadows that my brothers, Evan, Tyler, Logan, our sister Emily, and I chased with glee. Oh, I didn’t introduce myself; the name is Wally Bear.

Anyway, back to Pawsburg. Bulldog Bay was bustling with retrievers chasing frisbees and our local watering hole, the Pup ‘n’ Go Taco Joint, had a line trailing out the door. You could smell the grilled chicken from a mile away and boy, it smelt like a slice of heaven covered in meat juices.

As we made our way through the crowd, my eye caught sight of that squeaky football in a pile of donations outside the Doggie Daycare. An old possession of mine, battered and worn from countless games of tug of war and fetch. I couldn’t resist; I bulldozed through the crowd to reclaim what once was mine. As I bit down, the squeeak! it produced echoed through Pawsburg; well at least that’s my interpretation of it.

My brothers and Emily, knowing my stubborn streak and resolute stamina, dared not challenge my rightful claim, and we moved on. We had a mission, delivered to us by the top dogs of Pawsburg, to convince Alfred, the Alpha Poodle, to ban peas from every dining joint in Pawsburg.

My dislike for peas is well registered within the borders of our town. Memories of countless meals ruined by these tiny green nightmares made this task a personal one.

We maneuvered through Pawsburg, stopping at the Bow Wow Bistro and Pupperoni Pizza to rally our cause. The audience was a mixed pack, some agreeing with our distaste for peas, others sitting with skeptical faces, not quite convinced that peas were the true menace to their gastronomic delights.

As we conquered each destination, we found ourselves closer to our goal – Alfred’s residence. A regal manor bathed in spotless white and gold, Alfred was relaxing at Spotted Red Beagle Beach, surrounded by his followers.

As we approached, I could feel the familiar clench of anxiety, that comes before any pivotal moment. There we were, a bunch of Bulldogs and a Border Collie, standing before a regal Poodle. As I started narrating my plea, my voice was surprisingly steady, my points definitively clear, my arguments undeniably strong. You would have thought I was born for this – to garner support for causes so personal that they touch the heart of every citizen in Pawsburg.

Whether we will be successful or not remains to be seen; but as I walk back home, the familiar scent of grilled chicken wafting from the Pup ‘n’ Go Taco Joint, the squeaky football under my arm, I couldn’t help but reflect – this is our town. And the only green we tolerate here is the lush grass of the park and the sprightly trees at Lower Golden Gate Gardens; certainly not peas messing up our meals!

The End.