Hey there, it’s your gal Tink. Got caught up leading the pack through Pawsburg in this frisky dog-eat-dog life, in search of kibbles or maybe a chicken if we’re lucky! Been making stops at the South Siberian Summit, the Fetching Deli, and even brave ol’ Chihuahua Castle. No duck-watching this time, though. Remember, size of a teacup, but heart of a Mastiff – that’s me! Wagging through the tough times, Tinkerbell 🐾🦴🐶

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The back and forth echo of a bark caught me off guard. I should’ve known. The sun had set, the owners were sleepin’, and Pawsburg was pulsating with excitement. It was Tinkerbell, the sprightly Pomeranian, leading the charge. First stop? South Siberian Summit, I guess to check if the icicles still hang in canine perfection. I hope so, for the love of dog bones!

Tinkerbell, always that diamond dangling around her neck and her plush squirrel Acorn safely tucked under her paw, was the daintiest thing you’d ever see. And listen, she’s not just sparkly, she’s got guts. Size of a teacup, heart of a mastiff, that’s our Tink.

So, there we were, navigating through the scarred remnants of Pawsburg, every now and then interrupted by that whine from Rufus, the Labrador powerhouse and Sprinkles, the playful Shih Tzu tagging along. “Hey, where’s the grilled chicken?” That was Tink’s favorite indulgence. None today. See, apocalyptic times don’t come with grilled chicken and doggy bagels.

We were off to Beagle Beach next, the sand there still warm, still a favorite of dogs seeking relaxation after a day of scouting for food and shelter. We hoped the Fetching Deli nearby was still operational, but it was worse than a canine’s worst nightmare. Not a crumb or kibble in sight. A bitter sigh echoed around me. Broccoli suddenly didn’t seem that bad. Only if we could find some.

We journeyed to Chihuahua Castle, now standing more like a bruised relic than a castle. We took shelter there that night, prayers for cheese bones and sunny days whispered into those starless Pawsburg skies. Tinkerbell always spoke of that spot near the river, where she loved to watch ducks swim by. I bet she missed that. I carved a small duck out of a leftover wood piece. Tinkerbell sniffed it, a soft wag of her tail. Small comforts in a big mess.

A flash of lightning followed by a monstrous thunder had us all awake, Tinkerbell was shivering, tucking her head under my furry paw. She despised thunderstorms more than she despised broccoli. To be honest, I didn’t blame her. A pile of broccoli would be a welcome sight compared to this racket.

Apocalypse? Check. Adventures in Pawsburg? Double check. Old friends, new challenges and a fighting spirit? Triple check. Yep, it was down and dirty, nothing like the Pawsburg we knew, but hey, we were survivors, and Tinkerbell? She was the hero of this dog-eat-dog world.

The End.

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