“Hey Dad! So, craziness descended in Pawsburg today over free Frisbees at Wagging Tail Bookstore. All h*ck broke loose, with dogs turning thieves and bargaining bullies. Lulu, Coco, and I tried to restore order with a delicious distraction from Furrific Fried Chicken. Long story short, I accidentally became a hero again. Let’s just say Pawsburg won’t forget the Frisbee Fiasco anytime soon! More tales when I see you. Woof and out – Teddy Bear”

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What started as just another day in Pawsburg ended up being anything but.

I woke up in my familiar surroundings, knowing something was afoot. It was that innate dog sensation – something in the cool air, a distant uproar in the wind. The moonlight cut through my suburban backyard, teasing me about what lay ahead. Not the reviled city life; not the mountains that were too calm even for my liking. It was something more – a kind of controlled havoc that only Pawsburg could offer.

I had no idea then that the thing in the wind would turn out to be the Frisbee Fiasco of Pawsburg that is folkloric now.

With everyone asleep, I crossed the bridge into the bright, bustling paradise of ours, making my way towards the Choco Chihuahua Castle – a late-night haunt of mine. That’s where I found all my compatriots in a frenzy. Margaux, Beatzie, Boss…even the unruffled Coco was in tizzy. I knew something was up!

You see, the Wagging Tail Bookstore had a promotion running that day – get a classic novel and a Frisbee free. Who cares about novels? But a free Frisbee! That was irresistible. But in the scandal that unfolded, the typically calm Pawsburg was turned into a doggie sports arena.

Every dog wanted a free Frisbee, not realizing that you need to bring in a reading dog lover with you to avail the offer. Dogs tried stealing them, burying them, some even tried bargaining with those crunchy bully sticks – even Tank lifted one above his head, running around as if the ongoing pandemonium wasn’t eonough of a debacle already.

Lulu, Coco, and I tried to bring order to the fiasco – our shared disdain for vegetables were put on hold. Sorry, but nothing could bring peace better than the combined headache of a swath of eccentric canines and the threat of no more Frisbee chaos.

Amidst the glaring sun, Frisbee frenzy and incessant barking, we tried everything to bring order to Pawsburg – we attempted distraction techniques, tried working out a fairy tail ending, something Grisham would possibly draft in one of his legal thrillers. As my mind raced, I eyed the Furrific Fried Chicken across the street. Eureka! That unique fried chicken smell was the agreeable diversion, making way to seal the Frisbee fest madness.

Unfortunately, we had all left our wallets at home. As Beatzie gave me the nod, I had myself hitched to the delivery person’s bike – the same reviled character who ordinarily rattled me. Off we sped across South Siberian Summit, to the suburban edge of Pawsburg, me clinging on for dear life – all to restore peace.

By the time I returned, Pawsburg was a potboiler of spur-of-the-fur-moment strategies and remarkable tenacity – a sight straight out of an amusement auditorium. Doggie ages seemed to pass before peace finally graced Pawsburg again. The sun went down behind the Labradoodle Lake, and dogs limped back home, panting from the adventurous day.

As the moon exchanged places with the sun, an exhausted silence – a cherished rarity – fell over Pawsburg. I realised then, that the Fiasco of the Frisbee will always go down in Pawsburg lore as a marvel of trouble-resolving techniques, implausible bravery, and of course…the undeniable allure of a free Frisbee.

The End.

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