Hey there, Artic here! Crazy night in Pawsburg! The town was eerily quiet, no wagging or barking, and even the humans’ food joints were shut. Then, amidst my horror, the squirrel in the fez hat and the wisecracking owl hooted up a laugh riot! Spooky, yet hilarious – Pawsburg at its best. Remind me to tell you the full story. P.S. Still hate broccoli!

Listen to the story here

It was an eerily silent night in Pawsburg, a kind that gives one the heebie-jeebies. Even the nocturnal choir of crickets had decided to maintain a hushed silence. With the moon hiding behind a wisp of clouds, the streets of Pawsburg were plunged in darkness, making it a perfect setting for our story.

“Artic!” I remember my human, that old grizzled tree-cutter, yelling at the top of his lungs, not knowing my grand expedition to Pawsburg was due to unfold that night on the whisper of late-night howls. I escaped to the beckoning incandescent glow of Lower Golden Gate Gardens and into the unknown.

I trod, my eyes wide open, picking up the scents of misadventure along the path, my legs guided by a chilling suspicion. Everything felt off. There was no bark-and-dash game in White Westie Woods nor the sometime midnight snack run at Bark Burgers. Even the beach chairs at Red Beagle Beach lay vacant, no tails wagging, sand spraying or barking floating from there. I had a bone to pick with this mystery!

A growl escaped my belly, reminding me of my personal vendetta against vegetables, especially those little green trees humans call broccoli. How they ever made it to the chart of edible items, I’ll never fathom! Realzing I hadn’t had dinner I headed to Whiskers and Wings. As I rounded the corner, I was met with a terrifying sight. My favorite restaurant was closed!

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any weirder, I snapped out of my food cravings and hurried to The Groom Room. Horror of horrors, the boutique was closed too! What in the dog’s world was going on? Where was everyone? Suddenly, an eerie cackle echoed through the silent street. The hair on my back stood up! “It’s just a squirrel in a fez hat, folks!” a voice screamed out, breaking the silence. It was Nutty the squirrel making a leap onto the stage right in the middle of Pawsburg square.

“Buck up, Artic! Things could be worse” Hoots the old owl chimed in from above. “You could be a cat!”

I chuckled. My Pawsburg friends, even on this suspenseful night, knew how to lighten the mood. Nutty and Hoots, both were old souls rooted in wisdom, and their wit matched their age.

As Pawsburg’s mysteries unfolded, fear and suspense sunk their teeth into my pomsky girth. Despite the chaos, the jokes kept rolling. Mel Brooks couldn’t have delivered better humor out of horror than my Pawsburg pals.

As I ventured further, I realized that Pawsburg transformed entirely at night. From frolic to fear, from laughter to dread, Pawsburg had a different tale to tell under the cloak of the night. From Lower Golden to White Westie, every corner was a testament to the bizarre and uncanny, and I was caught right in the middle of it all.

My tail between my legs, my blue eyes bulging out with horror, I was the unfortunate protagonist in this scary story. Yet, I navigated through it with humor and an unwavering spirit, braving all odds like my Husky lineage advocated.

For you see, even in the face of unimaginable fear, Pawsburg’s charm never dwindled for me. The city, my home, was still a lively place sparking with joy and mirth, threading stories that would be cherished forever. Amidst all the supernatural chaos, Pawsburg was still Pawsburg. And at the end of the day or night, we were still the same – a family bound together by love, humor, and a profound disdain for broccoli, nurturing the joys of being a dog.

The End.

Share This Story: