“Hey, it’s Rolo! Today was wild – dashed around my secret maple tree, had a feast at Chow Chow joint, and even tried hitting the bustling Poodle Pond. But it was too insane even for me! Took refuge with my ladybug at our usual spot. Pawsburg’s tough, but it’s home, right? Take care, till the next adventure, mate!” – Bulldog Bravo

Listen to the story here

You think you know Rolo, right? Well, you ain’t seen nuthin’ yet.

This quaint little place we like to sneak off to when the owners are at their 9 to 5s? Pawsburg. And that bulldog – with the look of a heavyweight prizefighter but the heart of a lovestruck sap? That’s my darling friend, Rolo.

She was darting anxiously around the jade-colored maple tree in Central Park. It’s her go-to spot. Her sanctuary away from the world, where she shields herself from this city’s blinding sunlight. “Rolo,” I said, “you ain’t gonna catch that squirrel, so stop pretending.” She paused, and a knowing grin plastered across her snout before rushing back to sniff around.

Later, we hit up Chow Down Chow Chow. Swanky joint, for Pawsburg. The place was bustling as always, but Rolo – that’s her territory. That bulldog hates beef like a cat hates water. Don’t ask me why. Tina behind the counter slides a plate of Rolo’s favorite savory chicken chunks. Rolo’s eyes light up. For her, it’s not just about the food – it’s about the connection we make around our meals.

Moving out, our rumbling stomachs now silenced, we head to South Poodle Pond. A peaceful spot for us four-legged misfits amidst the hustle-bustle of Pawsburg. Today though, it looked more like a rock concert than a peaceful abode. Westie Woods and Boxer Beach were more subdued in comparison. Even Rolo, with her mighty bulldog bravado, didn’t fancy the odds this time.

“Tough luck, eh?” I commented, nudging Rolo’s plush ladybug with my snout. She picked it up, caring as ever, like it’s her own newborn pup. Previous adventures etched in my memory started flooding back. Time meant nothing when shared with good friends.

After a long day of adventures, we retire to our haunt. Rolo’s ladybug doesn’t leave her grasp, and I find a quiet corner to ruminate. The underbelly of Pawsburg may be rife with crime and corruption, but for a bunch of hounds like us, it’s home. It’s our playground. And we’ll navigate it together.

As I talk about Rolo, it amazes me. This city’s made up of all sorts; flappers, floozies, and the damned. But Rolo, she’s one of a kind. A bulldog with the spirit of an alley cat? That’s Rolo. Unpredictable, just how Pawsburg likes it.
Every dog has its day, and in our little corner of the world, it’s Rolo reigns supreme.

The End.