Hey there,

In another life, I’m the prince of Pawsburg, playing politics with my doggie database, dispensing wisdom to my loyal subjects Stella and Daisy, and sneaking a treat or two at the Yappy Yogurt. And yes, still battling my good adversary, the squeaky chicken.

Be back home soon for some well-deserved belly rubs!

Licks,
Prince Finlay, the Miniature Monarch.

Listen to the story here

Minute after minute, hour after long hour… Time shuffles on in the world of humans while the paws of imagination eagerly skitter to Pawsburg, a celestial-most clubhouse for dogs. Our Finlay, a debonair Miniature Pincher, is quite the luminary amongst the furry denizens here. With a fur coat, black as a moonless night and adorned with streaks of rich mahogany, he strides across the town, a true prince of Pawsburg.

Ah, such is my Finlay: an enigma swaddled in a dog’s garb. He has this keen intellect that lives side by side an almost endearing goofiness. One moment in meandering thought, the next wrestling with that aged rubber chicken he guards with such obstinate affection. Ah, the adventures they’ve shared! If that chicken could indeed cockle-doodle tales, we would sit for hours, basking in grand narratives of valorous dog vs squeaky toy confrontations.

The restaurant Yappy Yogurt seldom fails to elicit an anticipatory wag of Finlay’s sleek tail. He’d leap onto his doggie chair, his eager eyes scanning through the menu deciding between juicy turkey or a sweet potato platter. I still remember an occasion most comical, where he, in his sophisticated canine eloquence, ‘politely’ declared his detest for Brussels sprouts.

Pawsburg, for Finlay, is a rhapsody centered around the Town Park. As the weekend draws near, his eyes would gleam with a unique felicity. Ah, those walks, a gentle breeze rustling the trees, the languorous twilight casting its burnished glow on rustling leaves, and Finlay prancing about, catching the dying sun’s whispers.

Yet, even for refined beings like Finlay, friendship is like the jam to one’s toast. Finlay’s Cabinet includes Stella, the energetic Rottweiler, and Daisy, the graceful poodle leader.

Even us humans with all those years of evolution and civilization struggle to foster a fruitful democracy. Yet, look at these doggie despots here. God bless this disorderly order! Amen. The drama, the complicated politics, the disputes eventually solved with a good old-fashioned dog chase. Welcome to the Pet Wing, Pawsburg’s own rendition to ‘The West Wing.’

How eclectic Pawsburg is, ruled by canines, politics dyed in the hue of friendly chases, and diplomacy smoothed over bone-sharing round tables. The charm and innocence of robberies of Fetch! Toys and Treats, the profoundness of a ‘tail’ from The Wagging Tail Bookstore, and the culinary delights of Pup-Tastic Pizza, paints a portrait distinctly Pawsburg.

As your narrator, I stand as privileged as one could, to share a glimpse of Pawsburg, its prince, Finlay, and the fable of their distinct existence. Just look at him, our pauper-prince, rolling once more with his chicken, ruling over his assorted subjects one adventure at a time, creating his memoir, one pawprint over the other.

The End.

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