“Hey there, it’s Omaha. Just leading the pack tonight, making our usual food heist at Paws On The Grill. Chicken’s the prize! The city sleeps, but the game’s just getting started in Pawsburg. The moon’s my co-conspirator – wish us luck!”

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The evening blanket of darkness had just settled over Pawsburg, the city of my exploits. A golden shimmer sneaked out from the boarded windows of The Bark Shak. It was the call to a duel of knives and forks, a dinner battle my comrades and I were more than willing to wage.

As usual, Jinx and I were the last out of our respective homes; the last to turn tail on the world of humans, and the first to melt away into the cloisters, the nooks and crannies of Pawsburg. I could see the treetops of Eastern White Westie Woods growing somber under the moon’s watchful gaze.

Being of stout demeanor, it fell to me to lead the ragtag group through Fawn Cream Maltese Meadow. The strays looked expectantly at me. Even Jinx, so doused in mischief, could not swindle her way across this maze without my guidance.

“Omaha, you’d better not fall in love with the moon again,” Jinx barked, her whiskers twitching. She gambled at words like I gambled at bones, often finding a winning maneuver to leave others baffled.

Her taunt seemed to ripple through the strays. Their collective grumble was like a sombre drumroll, reverberating through the meadow. As if on cue, the lights of the Meadow flickered on, splattering the clearing with dancing shadows.

“We’re not losing ourselves to the lure of the Bark Shak, I promise,” I replied, guiding us through the last prickly bracken. My words were greeted with barks of approval. Even Jinx had tilted her head in a nod – her version of Manhattan water torture was an amusing parlance.

Slipping into Pawsburg’s nightlife was a clandestine operation. Shadows unfurled, hiding under the moon’s dainty glow. This was the hustle and bustle I understood. This was the world where we, the dogs, had an upper paw.

Tonight’s mission? Industrial espionage that would make the Cold War look like a blip and it all hinged on the next critical hour in The Bark Shak. An international food heist was in order. Like every other night in Pawsburg, today too, we had an itinerary. The strays, Jinx, and I were set to infiltrate ‘Paws On The Grill’ and score the treasure – leftover chicken.

Just as in the game of fetch, my heart yearned for the win. I nuzzled my rope toy for luck, whispered my game plan to Jinx, and we all trotted to the back door of Paws On The Grill. Would we succeed, or would I have to default to the bakery leftovers? Only time could paint the truth on the canvas of Pawsburg’s night.

The End.

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