“Sun’s up in Pawsburg! Socked a few squirrels, scarfed down my fav cheese slices -Cucumbers? Over my dead body! Tried dragging Buttons out of the books. Beach-bone-burying & chaos cut short by pesky rain. Now I’m back, listening to Buttons’ as-old-as-Pawsburg tales. Wonder what tomorrow brings! -Scruff 🐾”

Listen to the story here

As the first light hit Pawsburg town, I rolled out of my socked-in corner at Lower Silver Siberian Summit. Stretching my ragged, fawn and chestnut coat, I squinted at the morning sun and scoffed at my rumbling belly. There’s never a dull morning in Pawsburg for ol’ Scruffy.

Hosted by the neighborhood squirrels, my morning often began with hide-and-seek in Westie Woods. Against my shaggy mane and keen senses, the squirrels never stood a chance. Meanwhile, the ducks down at the park’s pond cheered for their small furry brethren.

Hungry after my victorious run through the woods, I trotted into Paws-A-Latte. The smell of fresh cheese slices wafting from their kitchen was enough to set my tail wagging fervently. “The usual, Scruff?” chirped Sally, the Springer Spaniel waitress. Few seconds and I was wolfing down the cheesy stacks. God forbid, if they’d switched it up with cucumbers…

After a satisfying meal, always came playtime. At the Wagging Tail Bookstore, my old pal Buttons was typically immersed in a piece of canine literature. His spotty, thoughtful face peering over a ‘How to Bark the Beethoven Symphony.’ Perhaps today, I could finally dislodge him from his books with a quick tug of war. Borrowing his gruff tone, I enlightened him, “A mind needs exercise as much as a body, Buttons…”

All charged up post play, we’d head to Beagle Beach. A perfect spot for burying bones and creating havoc, until the fateful rain clouds emerged. As the first drops began to pitter-patter against my fur, I returned to my safe haven under the broad Oak tree, watching the waning day with a touch of melancholy. Yes, they say every dog has its day, and mine.. well, mine ends with a drizzle.

Back in our Pawsburg hut, as the lights dimmed and the chatter hushed, Buttons kicked off with his bed-time tales and I, Scruffy, Pawsburgite and master of tug-of-war, nestled in listening to a tale as old as Pawsburg itself, wondering what the morrow held for a mutt like me.

The End.