“New day in Pawsburg, ran around my fave spots, kept postman Red in check. Pepper stopped by, we had the usual ball-chase & belly-rub shenanigans before treating ourselves to Yappy Yogurt’s chicken-parfait. All in a day’s work as Golden Retriever in Chief! 🐾 – Biscuit the Boss”

Listen to the story here

As day broke on Pawsburg, an early light winked through the tall cedar fence at the edge of Lower Dalmatian Desert, signaling another day for the mayhem of joy, camaraderie, and minor misdemeanors, a daily occurrence in this rustic canine utopia.

Rollicking out from under the covers, our dear Biscuit locked onto the dim crack of dawn that sneakily entered through her dutifully closed dog flap. The toasted golden embers of her coat shimmered in the dawning light, the picture of a Western dawn upon a lone ranger; if rangers loved fetching tennis balls, that is.

Fixing her mischief-laden gaze upon the waiting town, she bolted, the wind against her snout breathing life into her grand entrée into the day. She circled Poodle Pond thrice, kicked up dust in Lower Dalmatian Desert and contemplated a stop by Spa for Paws, but a sprightly nine-year-old pup doesn’t have all the hours in the world to dally.

A call echoed across from Bullmastiff Boardwalk. Red, the grumpy but surprisingly agile Pawsburg postman, skidded into town square, his satchel jangling with the day’s assortment of newspapers, letters, and odious, stomach-turning packages of canned lamb. Biscuit, assuming her role as the town protector, charged up to him, her bark resonating with all the self-made authority of a sheriff. Dispersed with a swift lick and an offered pat from Red, Biscuit’s ferociousness mellowed into jovial chuckling.

Suddenly, the eccentric bell on the door of The Bone Appetit announced the arrival of Pepper, the sassy Dachshund diva. Dressed to the nines from Canine Couture Clothing, Pepper strutted her way over, promising an afternoon of chasing tennis balls, sharing belly rubs, and breathtaking adventures within the heart of Pawsburg.

Fetching RPawsburg’s Golden Retriever in Chief, I might have been born with a silver bone in my mouth and dainty paws, but I have never let that stop me from losing myself in the rugged charm of our own little Wild West.

As day began to douse itself over Pawsburg and the golden hue of evening began to cloak the town, Biscuit and Pepper finally settled for a meal of roasted chicken at Yappy Yogurt – cuz, who can resist the tang of their famous chicken-parfait concoction?

And thus, another day folded itself into the annals of Pawsburg, a town as negotiated by paws as it was alive in wagging tails, leaving the inhabitants with memories of another day well sniffed, well barked, and well lived, under the benevolent rule of one sprightly Golden Retriever. Their very own Biscuit.

The End.