Hey fam,

Your favorite pawsome adventurer just had another wild romp in Pawsburg. Just a casual escape to sushi heaven, a figure-skating rendezvous with a bubbly bathtub, and an Indiana Jones-style dash to Pet Partners. A Robin Hood-ish plot later, I cartwheeled back home, seafood breath and all, the Peter Pan to Johnson’s Neverland! All in a Pawsburg night’s work!

Signed,
Caper, a.k.a Testing the terrific Trickster.

Listen to the story here

Once upon a late night scoot, it happened again. Johnson’s caught up in some soppy rom-com on Netflix, the perfect chance for yours truly, Caper, to snatch some personal fun time. Ever heard of Pawsburg? Talk about Canine Utopia! Oh, and there’s a strict ‘No Humans Allowed’ policy.

Rufus, my Rottweiler buddy, and Daisy, the Lab with an attitude, had already set foot on Beagle Beach, my sandy rendezvous. This was where the great escape commenced. Slipping out of the Johnson’s back door, I nudged my red ball along, Bahamian music already wafting in from Waggle n’ Wok. I felt like the German Shepard version of Pinocchio escaping to the playground of misfit kids.

Our first stop tonight? Well, I’d heard rumbles, see? The Cat’s Meow Sushi had just unrevealed a dish called The Doggie Roll, “a mouthful of o-fish-al delight”. Taking a hint from my name, I dared to adventure past the threshold of this feline-themed gloryhole. Boy, was I in for a surprise! Just like in that gingerbread house of Hansel and Gretel’s misadventure, my nose got me into some serious trouble. ‘Doggy Roll’ wasn’t just a cute name; it really was stuffed with my favorite! Salmon, that red herring in my food cravings chart.

Too good to be true, right? Delirious with delight, I nearly chomped off the chef’s paw. Let’s just say, he didn’t take it lightly. In a hot pursuit as thrilling as the chase sequences from Tom and Jerry, I slinked through Dalmatian Desert and slipped into The Dapper Dog salon for a quick lay-low. But there it was, my “living nightmare” – a gigantic, steaming tub bubbling away invitingly… for someone who isn’t me. Bath-phobic? I believe we’ve met.

Much to my chagrin, a Bichon Frise salonist gave chase, brandishing the dreaded soap. “Waterfiend!” I hissed under my breath as I bolted, making so much ruckus, Cinderella’s midnight escape looked like a leisurely stroll. A straight dash to Pet Partners Pet Supplies, I figured, would be my salvation.

Hiding amongst the chew toys, decisions had to be made. Do I sneak back to boring ol’ Johnson’s? No, not I, Master Caper. No glass slipper left behind or ticking alligator to cower me.

Like Robin Hood, I found my “Merry Men” in Rufus and Daisy at our usual spot, the Maltese Meadow. Under the gleaming Pawsburg moon, we plotted – water pistol power slides and a takedown worthy of Rapunzel’s frying pan fiesta. Our victory crowned with the ill-gotten spoils of The Bone Appetit’s doggie bag.

Yet as the first tendrils of dawn penetrated the night, I’d slip back into Johnson’s homestead, my red ball safeguarded under my paws, my breath reeking of seafood adventure. Me, Caper, the pawfect blend of Peter Pan and furry Houdini.

You thought this was a fairytale? My love, this is just a day, nay, a night in Pawsburg. Believe it or not, the choice my friend, is yours entirely.

The End.