Hey there,

Just another day as Pawsburg’s chief tail-wagger. Uncovered a plot at Fishy Bites, did some doggie detective work with Bella, and put Rumbold behind bars. All in a day’s work! Tomorrow awaits – who knows what excitement (or chow) it’ll bring?

Waiting and Wagging,
Jackson Oliver

Listen to the story here

I woke up that crisp Pawsburg morning, shook off the dream dust from my face, and wagged my tail enthusiastically. Just another day in the life of Jackson Oliver. As I trotted towards Lower Silver Siberian Summit, my trusty tennis ball in mouth, the brightness of the morning reflected off my gleaming caramel fur.

Being the early bird that I was, I had Pawsburg to myself. All except for one: Whistler, my Sparrow friend. As always, he greeted me with a cheerful tune and joined me on my morning walk. This day was off to a flying start, or as we canines say, yet another ‘tail-waggingly-good’ day.

At the edge of Spotted Red Beagle Beach, Whistler and I found Bella, fast asleep as the early morning sun kissed her coat. “Late night at The Barkery?” I teased, nudging her awake.

Bella groggily stirred, rolling her sleepy eyes at me. “And who cares, Mr. Morning Person?” She grumbled, but soon gave in to the spirit of the morning, shaking off her sleep and chasing me into the sparkling waves.

The sweet scent of waffles wafting from The Bone Appetit distracted our beach frolicking. With growling bellies, we wagged our tails all the way to our favorite restaurant, never minding the stern looks we received from the patrons who weren’t used to such early morning merriment.

Barely finishing our breakfast, Bella and I suddenly started receiving urgent, coded messages from the South Siberian Summit. “Something’s afoot,” Bella said, her eyes squinting in concentration.

Oh great, politics. As if it wasn’t enough that I had to deal with my fear of the local vet and a super picky palate. But you can’t sidestep everyone’s problems in Pawsburg. We’re all inter-knotted. Linked. Destined to share each other’s joys and disappointments.

We darted to The Doggie Daycare, assembling our trusted confidants. The messages had pointed to something fishy happening at Fishy Bites, the restaurant I loathed. Irony at its best, right? But as the unofficial chief tail-wagger around here, duty called.

After a detailed plan of deception and loads of doggie espionage, we found the culprit tampering with the deliveries at Fishy Bites. Rumbold, the ruthless Rottweiler from the shadowy corner of ‘Lafayette Street,’ had been poisoning the fish.

After Rumbold’s arrest, we held a secret celebration at The Furry Friends Art Gallery, where Bella and I were honored for our courage. As I laid down for the night, exhausted but satisfied, I realized that this was just another day in Pawsburg: chaos, mischief, and sabotaged tuna, the stuff of political thrillers.

With a wag of my tail, I sighed, content. Bring on tomorrow, Pawsburg. I’m Jackson Oliver, ready and waiting.

The End.

Share This Story: