Hercules PawWord Story

Hey Mom,

Rocked Pawsburg today – aced fur fluffing, chased endless fetch games, defended the scorned bone from an influx of bananas, and sang my heart out under moonlight. PS: If humans ask, I’ve been guarding couch all day.

Your little rogue,
Hercules

Listen to the story here

As Hercules, I’ve always found it rough living up to a name like mine. I mean, wrestling the Nemean lion? Puh-lease! My most Herculean task is deciding whether to choose K9 Kebabs or Pup-Tastic Pizza when I sneak away to Pawsburg. But I digress.

One sunny afternoon (I knew it was sunny because my human had left the slightly annoying square box, that was always too loud, off), I found myself venturing towards Pawsburg. I threw a glance over my rotund shoulder and made sure my human was still napping on his couch. Good. No need for a night-shift at the Yellow Tan Dalmatian Desert today. I much prefer the rush of Pawsburg in broad daylight.

Upon arrival at my gentrified sanctuary, I first made my way to The Pampered Pooch Salon. There, my dear friend Tinker, a hairless Chihuahua (poor lad has the hair of a mole rat), gives me a ‘Dry-Brush Fur Fluff’ treatment. It’s like a bath, but without the element that strikes terror into my brave heart – water.

After, I leisurely stroll my paws along Boxer Beach promises the thrill of the fetch games, the webbed sand beneath the paw, and my favorite… raw meat kebabs! Even a mighty creature like me isn’t above these primal joys. But while I savor my bountiful meal, in walks trouble. The local delivery dog carrying what? Bananas! Go figure how a fruit so oddly shaped and ghastly in taste gets popular in Pawsburg. It’s like they’ve never heard of a bone.

With my heart full and my belly fuller, I waddle towards North Chihuahua Castle, the go-to place for those seeking unending dog-fights, or in my case, endless dog conversations.

I yawn, stretch (belly always in the air, of course), and rest my heavy head on the stone floor. The other dogs come and go, but I listen to their casual prattles and sharp barks, chiming in when I deem necessary. Soon, darkness falls, and the yawns are contagious.

With a final stretch, there is only one more pit-stop left: sing for my fellow pup mates under the moonlit glow in Pet Partners Pet Supplies. It’s a tradition as old as, well, probably yesterday, but it’s the only place I won’t ignore a front-row seat for.

Now, if you’re scratching behind your ears wondering if my account of my semi-nocturnal adventures reminds you of some fine picaresque tales, let me tell you – it does me too. Except, I am more belly, less rogue. As I trot home, I prepare to tackle my most Herculean task of the day – convincing my human that I haven’t been sneaking off to Pawsburg. Wish me luck!

The End.