“Hey, it’s Paisley, your midnight sleuth! Another exciting night at Pawsburg, the canine utopia. Picture me as Indiana Bones, beaching at the Beagle’s, hillside at the Husky’s or bay-watching at the Bulldog’s. Each night, a new gig at this ruff and tumble wonderland. Back at dawn for our customary snuggle, just another ordinary night in our extraordinary lives. Signed – your adventurous furball, Pawsley!”

Listen to the story here

It was just another ordinary night as I looked out from the bay window of our small, cozy home. Paisley, my golden ray of sunlight, was perched next to me, her gaze locked at the mesmerizing full moon. Lost in its content, with eyes sparkling brighter than the distant stars, I knew she was painting the town of Pawsburg with her imagination. How do I know? Well, believe me, after living with this furry Einstein for a good seven years, you’ll also learn to read that mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“Oy, Paisley!” I exclaimed, breaking the silence of the night. “You’re not thinking about going off to Pawsburg, are you? Attempting to solve one of those weird mysteries, maybe?” Paisley peacefully gazed back, like her profound silence was my answer.

Pawsburg – a dog’s den, a hound’s haven, a tail-waggers’ dreamland – that’s what Paisley painted it as. And believe me, it truly was something. It’s a place that dogs sneak off to when their owners are asleep, getting themselves into all sorts of adventures. The kind of stuff Pais jumps into reminds me of X-Files all over again, just with a lot more fur and slobber.

Now, where was I? Oh yes, Paisley. As if on cue, Pais jumped off the couch and headed for the door with her favorite squeaky platypus in tow. I tell ya, it’s like carrying a security blanket during alien abductions, but who am I to argue with doggy logic?

“When are you back?” I swiftly asked as she gently pawed at the door. Again, she responded with that cryptic silence. Figures!

So, off she trotted into the moonlit night like Indiana Bones looking for the lost bark, and I could only imagine the spree she must’ve had across Spotted Red Beagle Beach, Western Husky Hill, or even Black Bulldog Bay. A furry sleuth checking out folks at ‘Paws on The Grill’ or devoting her energies at ‘The Pawfect Training Center’ training new promising furball detectives.

And when she comes back at the first light of dawn, she snuggles up next to me, as if she’d not spent the night gallivanting around the unusual dog haven that Pawsburg indeed is. And there we stay, the King and his jester in a comedy skit written by the paws of destiny, our days filled with Paisley’s larger-than-life tales and the nights with her quiet, secretive detective work. But hey, as they say in Pawsburg, “The bark is always stranger than the bite.”

The End.