Yo! Da night Pawsburg almost turned to ashes, we rose to da challenge. Pawsburg Pals to da rescue! Sooty, soaky, snooty, but victorious. Fur-raising adventure, but we gnawed it good. Town’s scarred but stronger. Remember, every Shih Tzu has his day, today was ours. 🐾 Miles aka Dog Hemingway

Listen to the story here

I’ve spent my dog years in Pawsburg. It’s a weird place, but it’s home. Peculiarly, all the action happens when humans sleep. Here, midnight stars blare like noon, high above Black Bulldog Bay and Spotted Red Beagle Beach. Now, I ain’t no Hemingway but I’ll do my best to tell this tale.

It all started at the heart of Pawsburg Square. I, Miles the Shih Tzu, was prancing about, sporting my white coat, slicked against the breeze. Elroy, my blue rubber elephant, bobbed around my neck, hanged on a string. My caramel ear smudge was the talk of town; a lick of color in my otherwise snowy motif. Rather dashing.

But that’s not the story! Our tale truly kicked off when we, the Pawsburg Pals – that being Max the Bulldog and those rascal twins, Rocket and Swift – had our usual evening out at Waggle n’ Wok, noshing away at our pork-topped pupcakes. I was pining for a helping of turkey, my forbidden indulgence. Screw brussels sprouts!

And boy, before we could inhale our second main course, catastrophe hit! In haste, Rocket sprung up, mewing furiously. He’d spotted smoke. It billowed from the direction of Upper Black Bulldog Bay. The normally serene night of Pawsburg was engulfed in chaos. Smoke plumes clawed into the sky, while surviving embers danced along the waters.

The fires of the bay quickly spread its terror to the rest of Pawsburg. It was a sight for sore eyes, unreal! A surreal, flaming nightmare that dared to swallow our beloved Pawsburg.

But wait, miles to go before we sleep, right? Pawsburg needed a plan. Damned if we’d mew or whimper while our home crumbled. Rallying, we rushed back to Pecan Street, to my house, where Miss Evelyn had squirreled away an old red fire hydrant. Decorative, she’d said. Essential, it turned out.

After a hasty consultation, an audacious plan was hatched and executed with bravura by all. Just think of us, Pawsburg Pals – mismatched and panicked, dashing into disaster with our hometown’s hope dragging behind us!

Wielding the antique hydrant, we leapt into the heart of chaos, aiming to stanch the fire. And oh, scarlet victory! We were drenched, soot-coated, and dog-tired, yet grinning our goofy grins. The sweet smell of singed fur, fresh water, and victory filled the air.

Our Pawsburg, man’s best friend turned firefighter, endured that gruesome night. And us four, we emerged stronger, closer, perhaps a little snootier on our dog-perfect days. I still remember Max’s deep-chested dog-laugh lighting up the charcoal-dark square. How we nibbled through victory tacos at Fur Tacos, still half-soaked, trading tales of bravery.

So yes, ever since that disaster, Pawsburg ain’t quite the same. Couldn’t be. It’s a town touched by crisis, saved by gumption, and held together by a camaraderie only dogs, cats, and antique hydrants can understand. That’s our home.

Dark it may have been, but it’s a piece of my heart, my story. You see, like all heroes, we merely rose up against the odds, against the fires of disaster, firmly clutching the handles of our fate. I reckon that’s Pawsburg for you! Wrestled a catastrophe and lived to wag the tale. Ain’t no tall tale, though. Just a Shih Tzu spinning dog yarn. Woof!

The End.