“Yo! Mighty Alfred here! Just outsmarted the alarms at Pet Partners with Max & Bella, fetched the biggest squeaky ball known to dogkind. Lockpicking Schnauzer and moonlit escapades included! PS: Sneaky operation goes great with roast chicken. #FurryTale #WeAreTheDoggoneBestHeistGang – Al 😉🐾”

Listen to the story here

Now listen carefully, folks, ’cause I’m only going to narrate this tale once. Now picture this, a mighty St. Bernard named Alfred – yep, that’s me – with a heart-shaped face, eyes the warm color of cinnamon, and a coat so fluffly it could double as your favorite pillow. Hitched a wild ride in Pawsburg, a place so doggone perfect, humans don’t believe it exists.

Here’s how it went – it was a quiet Tuesday night. I’d just finished enjoying my annual Thanksgiving roast chicken – yeah, I’m the kind of gourmet dog who sprints miles at the mention of anything including the words “roast” and “chicken.” Vegetables are not my thing though, you’d sooner find me chasing my tail than munching on a carrot.

So, there I was, sitting on my porch, belly full, watching the world when my buddies, Max and Bella approached me with a wild gleam in their eyes. That’s as good a cue as any that an adventure is about to begin. What was the plan, you ask? Hold your horses, I’m getting there!

Our target? Pet Partners Pet Supplies. My pals and I were regulars there, sneaking off in the dead of the night. But that night was different. Our eyes were set on the biggest, the bounciest, the squeakiest ball they had tucked away, practically calling my name.

“What about the alarms?” said Bella, the worry beads practically dripping from her words. “And let’s not forget, you are the size of a pony, Al.” Ah! Classic Bella. Always fretting.

I flashed her my charming St. Bernard grin. What’s an adventure without a dash of risk, huh?

I used my hulky size and strength to our advantage, my powerful legs propelling us effortlessly over the garden walls. Max with his retriever instincts, was our navigator, leading the path under the brilliant Shepherd Skyline. We ran through the Lower Golden Gate Gardens, our laughter muffled by the rustling leaves, the city of Pawsburg twinkling under the soft moonlight.

Breaking into the Pet Partners was laughably easy. It’s true what they say, sometimes it’s about who you know. So what if who I know is a back-alley Schnauzer with a knack for lock-picking?

We had the ball in our paws faster than you could say “Woof,” slinking out into the night, leaving no pawprints behind. Back on the quiet Hickory Street, it felt like a dream: The sneaky operation, the adrenaline rush, and the taste of victorious roast chickenuff – you didn’t think I could narrate this whole tale without mentioning food, did you?

Well, until Max yelped in excitement, “We are the doggone best heist gang!” Alright, maybe I’m a storyteller, not a name-giver. But the rest, as they say, is history.

So that’s how an easily charming, slightly stubborn and often jovial St. Bernard ended up with the squeakiest and most coveted ball from Pet Partners. Stuff of legends, I tell you. A story to trot out over dinners at Bone Appetit, turning all shades of envious eyes towards me. In Pawsburg, we’re just ordinary dogs, living out our furry-tale.

The End.