Hey, it’s Fang! Pawsburg was peace-disturbingly quiet tonight. Turns out, Sir Purr-A-Lot was stuck in a cellar, guarded by a celery mound. Courageously (if I may say so myself), I rescued our pompous pal. So, another epic night in Pawsburg – adventure, celery scares and all! Sleep tight, Carpe Canem! – Bulldog Bravery, Fang

Listen to the story here

No sooner had the company of moonlight taken hold of the blackened sky, and the gentle hum of tranquil slumber filled Stray-Ridge Park, than I slipped from my terrestrial bounds and entered the secret canine paradise known to us as Pawsburg. As an English bulldog of some reputation, my journeys varied from the cheerful chow-downs at The Bone Appetit, to the whispering willows of Greyhound Grove.

Tonight, however, was unlike any other evening in my Pawsburg chronicles. As the Pawsburg Express train left the station, chugging boisterously through Upper Black Bulldog Bay, I sensed something was amiss. It was, I dare say it, too quiet.

Remembering my time at Spa for Paws, my senses well-honed, I sniffed the air for clues. As I neared the Silver Siberian Summit, it was as if Pawsburg had changed before my eyes, or rather, my nose. The familiar scents of Bow Wow Burgers and Doggy Delight seemed misplaced, bereft of their bacon and peanut butter jubilation. The sanctity of my clandestine canine Eden stood on the precipice of violation.

“Why the doggone silence, folks?” I inquired of my friends. Ralph, the Labrador, silence his usually energetic bark, pointed towards the Fetching Feline Pet Emporium. Sir Purr-A-Lot was missing! Winona pondered, her ageless wisdom mirrored in her blue eyes, “Could it be….dog-nap?”

I gasped. The mystery behind the peace was far darker than I imagined. Sir Purr a Lot had always irked the dogs with his ‘above the crowd’ attitude, but he was our irky cat and we loved him nonetheless.

We rallied and embarked on our mission. The entire saga felt like a psychological combustion, festering with eerie anticipations and fear-laden shadows. We snuffled under every bush, sniffed every corner, pawed every patch until finally, we found our poor, fat friend stuck in a cellar, cornered by a massive mound of…celery? I had been plotting a dramatic rescue, but the sight of the green monsters made me want to turn tail and bolt!

Driven by my refusal to leave a friend behind, I galvanized my petrified paws and soldiered forward. Deftly avoiding the hideous celery, I gripped Sir Purr-A-Lot in my maudlin maw and galloped back into the welcoming chaos of Pawsburg.

So, that’s a tale from our Pawsburg Nights. Adventure, thrills, celery, and all. Sleep well my friend, for tomorrow, Pawsburg awaits for another night of riotous revelry, bulldog bravery, and priceless companionship. Carpe Canem – Seize the Dog!

The End.