Bella PawWord Story

Hey there,

This is Bella, your super Terrier! Just surfed a wave in Pawsburg, dogs don’t just talk, we swim too! Bulldog Bay’s flooded and the storm tried to wash away our treats. But no fear, your girl Bella led the pack to save the day. Now it’s fish feast time!

Woofingly yours,
Bella Finn

Listen to the story here

The clock strikes twelve, it’s a glorious night – Pawsburg time. And here I am, your beloved talking Terrier, Bella. A slightly toasted moon hanging in the indigo tapestry above and a carpet of twinkling stars. Peculiar, ain’t it? Dogs don’t talk. But when you enter Pawsburg, laws of nature seem to be more of a suggestion than anything.

I often take off to the ethereal realm of Pawsburg when my human snoozes. I make a beeline for the Southern Golden Retriever River, steering clear of the water, mind you. I remember that unfortunate tumble into the duck pond, oh, what a scandal that was! Her Majesty Bella, the leader of the Pawsburg Pack, making a soggy fool of herself. Unthinkable!

Tonight, the air feels different. It bears something heavy, like the impending doom you sense when sniffing a citrus orange. Right on cue, Bruno emerges from the shadows, fur on end. We exchange glances, apprehension surmounts.

“Disaster, Bella!” He yelps, barely catching his breath. “Bulldog Bay is flooded. The storm, it’s headed this way!” Crises have a way of making themselves known in Pawsburg, and this was a stinking catastrophe with a titanic stench – the only thing I despise more than an orange… water!

“Sniff ‘n’ Snack will be underwater. Doggy Donuts, Fur Tacos, they’ll be ruined!” Bruno exclaims in distress. The images of fishy delights and bone donuts drowned in ruthless water trigger something within me.

Fear? Bah! This is Pawsburg, fear is for the puppies. Strategic plans breed in my mind while Bruno quivers like an autumn leaf. At the break of dawn, crazy canines and titanic terriers, we rally our troops using the Pawsburg Pack howl, an age-old signal of unity. The Canine Cafe, the Dapper Dog Salon, the Pooch Playhouse – the heart of Pawsburg had to be evacuated!

Swiftly, we navigate through the storm. Clearly, canine instincts trump human GPS. We lead the smaller pups to the relative safety of the Western Fawn Pug Palace, securing our food supply on the floating highlands of the Golden Retriever River – far from the water’s reach, of course. Can’t afford another duck pond debacle!

Hours turn into minutes, the storm runs its course. Pawsburg lay in ruins, yet hope still flickers. Our spirits, albeit drenched, remain unbroken. Grilled fish fills the air, the Pug Palace serves as a shelter, and Doggy Donuts recovers its bearings.

A wry grin splits my face. We got knocked off our paws, but we’re dogs. We always land on our feet, or in this case, our paws. This is Pawsburg, and who’s the little snow-white Sheffield Bull Terrier leading the pack? Yours truly, Bella. Now, bring me that fish, Bruno. A girl needs sustenance after saving Pawsburg.

The End.