Hey there!

It’s Mollie, your local St. Bernard and secret canine maestra. This whole time, I was busy leading our fur buddies in Pawsburg’s first-ever pet band! Quite a tail, isn’t it? As it turns out, although we’re a group of misfits, we create the most paw-some music.

Until next time,
Molls 🐶🎵

Listen to the story here

Title: Band-tail: The Musical Tale of a Canine Riviera

It was just an ordinary day or so it felt. “Mollie, her name whispers like an enchanting curveball scrawled on parchment,” I pondered as I trailed the Skye-colored eyes of the St. Bernard. Normally, Mollie sheds her mysterious facade, but that day, a secret shroud guarded her every move. Something was up; you could feel it in Pawsburg’s crisp, adventure-scented air.

We usually head straight over to East Bulldog Bay, a land of frisking and occasional daydreaming, but that day, we found ourselves in an unusual pocket of Pawsburg – Greyhound Grove. “The air carries a rhythmic tremor here, don’t you feel it?” she said as she swayed her burnished copper and alabaster tail with a rhythm I was yet to decipher.

Suddenly, like a gusty breeze passing through an alley or a cat tiptoeing on a rooftop, coming into view was an unanswered question, cast in the form of a glimmering guitar at the Doggie Daycare. To see Molly, an icon of stoic elegance, twilling to the high notes of its strings, was to tackle the unexpected. Behold, the lady with an alluring charm was orchestrating a melody, something that could only be defined as beyond magical.

The beats caught the soul of the basset hound, Bark Twain. And, as if carried away by the invisible rhythm, the charming daschund, Woof Whitman, began to match his tail wags with the tune in the air. Even the misfit terrier, Growliver Twist, was humming along. Our identities were enigmatic yet, as we stood together, we formed a canine harmony under Mollie’s conduct.

But, Pawsburg was not a place for latent aspirations, it was a place for action, a canine Broadway of dreams-come-true. So, there we were, squeezing in practice sessions in between her least favorite Salmon Sashimi from The Cat’s Meow Sushi and his favorite double-deckers from Bow Wow Burgers, against the backdrop of wagging tails and laughters at Upper Black Bulldog Bay. Love, I always felt was an understatement for how we felt about Pawsburg.

Through it all, one thing was blatantly clear, Mollie had been crafting us. We were not a random pick for her band; we were chosen. Almost like every toy she’d ever nuzzle with her snout, we had something. We were a band, we were the misfits of Pawsburg, the charmers who’d been hiding in plain sight.

With a sigh, Mollie viewed our posters ‘Pawsburg’s First Pet Band’ at Best in Show Photography. A twinkle in her eyes, it felt like I could almost catch her thinking, “A thousand windows I’ve looked in… but how strange, I feel seen for the first time.”

Pawsburg had witnessed many tales, but ours I felt, was a musical revolution, a gentle root that grew into a blooming, magical tree. And just like Mollie’s favorite toy, her favorite culinary delights, perhaps, we were too — a hard-to-resist blend, woven with playfulness and rhythmic musical notes.

The End.

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