Hey there, it’s Missy, queen of Pawsburg: master of adventures, chewer of balls, hater of lettuce. Messy, funny, quirky, guess that’s me. Tilting doggy donuts towers and laughing like there’s no tomorrow, Pawsburg wouldn’t be the same without me. Woof ya later! 🐾💖🌮🐶 -M

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Once Upon a time, not a bedtime-for-the-kids kind of time but rather when their owners were asleep or out on one of those long, seemingly never-ending vacations, we’d scamper off to this charming little wonderland known as Pawsburg. Oh, don’t give me that look. Pawsburg! You know what I’m talking about. It’s the place where Fleabag the cat was totally banned for at least a week for knocking over a tower of doggy donuts in The Cat’s Meow Sushi.

Talking about Pawsburg, the adventures were endless and absolutely unpredictable, like being caught in the midst of a meteor shower, full of sparks and quite earth-shattering, but undoubtedly exhilarating.

I remember this one time, all us buddies got together for a day out in Upper Collie Canyon. Missy was nervous, her dark eyes sparkling with anticipation. You remember Missy, right? Of course you do, I mean who can forget her, that small, and fiercely stubborn little pup. Our hike across the canyon was fun, if you call slobbering after a Frisbee fun, interspersed by Missy’s need to stop every five minutes to chew on her faded ball. To be honest, it felt like accompanying a toddler that got enchanted with colorful butterflies, tempting pebbles and mischievous grasshoppers… but it was still a day well spent.

Later in the evening, we’d hit Fur Tacos. They served Missy’s favorite miniature chicken chunks filled tacos, but heaven forbid if one sneaky piece of lettuce made its way into her food. I’m telling you, that girl knows how to throw a fit. And you’d think Miss Picky Eater would be full and content, but no sooner had we reached Whiskers and Wings, she clumsily tripped, spilling her chicken chunks all over the mailman passing by. She yelped and bared her teeth, while the rest of us burst into peals of laughter.

I can still hear the booming laughter of Freddie echoing against the bookstore walls, as he patiently cleaned up the mess, his old eyes filled with amusement. Even Skipper, who practically has the attention span of a goldfish, stood still for once, taking in the hilarious spectacle.

Missy, the Chihuahua, the diva, the tiny canine package full of quirks and surprises. Every adventure involving her had its share of drama, giggles, and mild chaos. But all in all, life at Pawsburg was one long, fulfilling feast with her presence, each day a new chapter filled with mischief, unconventional culinary choices, and laughter. Something tells me they wouldn’t allow this for cats. God, I love being a dog.

The End.

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