Hey there, it’s Mollie aka ‘The Bottle Queen’ of Pawsburg. Just living my life between exciting evenings of hanging out with Max, chomping on bottles at daycare, and feasting on mouthwatering grilled chicken from Bone Appetit! Surviving the occasional thunderstorm terror, but ready for new adventures each day. Woof Woof, Mollie.

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My name is Mollie. But around Pawsburg, they call me ‘The Bottle Queen.’ Not that I’m complaining, I wear my title with pride. Each dusk, when my family tucks in, unaware of the secret canine society right under their noses, I slip away. The smell of simmering sausages wafts from Doggy Delight, stars glitter overhead, and the night unfolds into another splendid soirée in Pawsburg.

“Paws up Mollie!” That’s my main man, Max. He’s looking rakish as ever, if I may, a golden hunk of friendship. We hit the town like Brad and George at a Sundance premier.

My favorite stop? The Doggie Daycare. I mean, who can resist the tug of a good plastic bottle tossing game? Nothing revs up a night like the sweet sound of chomping on a hollow can. Let me tell you, the crunch, the mash, the squish. It’s opulent. Certainly beats the lackluster experience that is salad. Ugh, greens. I roll my eyes at just the thought of them.

But of course, every party needs some fuel. Our hotspots are Pupperoni Pizza or Bone Appetit, but tonight’s choice is clear. When the heavenly whiff of grilled chicken reached my nose, I galloped towards Bone Appetit faster than you could say ‘puppy chow.’ Kryptonite, you may call it. To me? Bliss, pure calorie-laden bliss.

Evening winds down at Pawsburg just as Max and I finish our culinary escapades. We find a quiet corner under the massive oak in Maltese Meadow, bellies full and hearts fuller.

Come sunrise, we sneak back to our respective homes, Max giving me a quick lick on the cheek before he hops over the white picket fence saying, “Same time tomorrow, Mollie?” I wag my tail in hearty consent.

But not all nights are glamorous in Pawsburg. Some nights were dramatic, chaotic and downright scary, like the ones with those horrendous thunderstorms. They create ripples of terror, turning me into a quivering mess. I would dart into the safety of my home, my fluffy cinnamon-colored tail between my legs, hiding away until the storm passed.

But each sunrise washes away the dread, and I’m ready again for another night of adventures. And so, the saga of my Pawsburg nights continues. Just another day in the life of Mollie the Bottle Queen. A dog doesn’t ask much. Toys. Food. Friends. It’s really as good as it sounds. Life is simple and perfect in the confines of Pawsburg. Or so, I used to believe. Stay tuned Pawsburg, because tomorrow is another day.

The End.

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