“Hey, it’s Baxter, your one-eyed wonder from Pawsburg! After an evening briefing with our playful pack, we’ve decided life’s too short for grand adventures; all we need is good company, a peaceful day, and definitely no broccoli on our plates. Let’s keep our tails wagging and stay away from the rain! Fella, peace out! 🐾 Signed, Little Man”

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It’s another day in our playful paradise we affectionately christen as Pawsburg. I am not alone on my nocturnal indulgences here. No, far from it. Doggies from every nook and cranny funnel in once their human compatriots blink the night away. Engulfing us, Pawsburg comes to life with the frolics of pawed friends, as alive as any canine dream could conjure.

There’s Baxter, my chummy wee mate, his black and white coat the talk of Pawsburg matched only by his singular fascinating eye, his other personal souvenir from some long forgotten scuffle. Don’t go on his size, mind you, for under those little pound of flesh and bone scurries a personality as paradoxical as they come in the canine world. It’s as if Lower Dalmatian Desert’s silence decided to take a form, as soothing as the Labradoodle Lake on a hot summer day.

While we romp around Pawsburg, Baxter usually tags along, stealing moments of quiet in the midst of chaos that is Bow Wow Burgers or Sniff ‘n’ Snack. Not a big fan of the rabble, Baxter is — he prefers his peace, a characteristic that makes his escapades to Pawsburg more about companionship than an adventure.

Now while most of us engage in the flurry of playfulness at Happy Hounds or, if one’s feeling terribly vain, they head over to Best in Show Photography, Baxter prefers the humble setting of his home on Earth with his human, doting Mom. Mind you, not a boring doggo is our Baxter, as Foolhardy Fred would have you believe. No, sir. Give him a good ‘ol car ride or a sunbathing spree, and he’s one joyous pup, prancing around with Lamb Chop, his toy, his accomplice in many a hoarded secret.

Careful though, don’t mention ‘snow’ or ‘swimming’ to him. Or the horrors of the great cloud burst! Rain’s no friend of Baxter. Gets him all shivery, the poor chap. The vacuum cleaner? The living embodiment of Hound’s Hell, if you ask him. Likewise, his food preference is quite amusing. No sir, no broccoli for him, but he can clean a plate of chicken faster than a Labrador on a diet!

As said, Baxter’s not much for grand adventures; he’s mostly about companionship. A group of us huddle together on quieter days, hiding from the pandemonium that is Pawsburg. We are the silent observers, the silent runners of this bustling canine city, drawing comfort from each other in the loudness of it all, keeping our toothy smiles gleaming and tails ever-waggling. And truly, with Pawsburg blooming under the watchful eye of our one-eyed chum, things never did seem more charmingly odd.

The End.