Yo, it’s Nikko B! So here’s the scoop: Midnight peanut butter party, solo dance-off at Bone Appetit, got dazzled by a new lady, Frenchie Faith. Ended up spinning her around Tail Wagger’s Tailor under the moon. Now, we’ve got both sunrise and puppy love. Oh and the PB jar still made it back safe and sound. Life sure is pawsome!

Listen to the story here

It was another one of those late nights when I was lip deep in a jar of peanut butter. Trusty Tessa and Gentle Goliath were snoring their literary motifs away on Beagle Beach, oblivious to my midnight feast. Ain’t nothing more exciting to a pit bull than a full jar of addictive goo, let me tell you. My russet coat dancing with the reflections of the moonlight, I decided it was time to wander towards the rambunctious charm of Bone Appetit.

Of course, no high caloric adventure would be complete without a visit to Doggy Delight. Those pesky citrus stenches could burn through even the hardest of sleep. I tell you, it’s worse than thunder splitting your ears at the crack of dawn.

My hearing, accurate as one of those fancy GPS navigators, tuned into the faintest strain of music. Then started the adventure of the century. Out of nowhere, there she was, Frenchie Faith, the new pooch in Pawsburg, swaying away in front of Best in Show Photography. I was frozen in my tracks, my peanut butter love carried away by the wind.

There was something about Frenchie Faith which was special. Her luxurious, snowy white coat contrasted against my autumnal russet glaze, proving that opposites indeed attract. She, a refined princess, me, a street-tough muscular prankster. To be honest, opposites ain’t just charge carriers in physics; they’re a force to be reckoned with in the comedrama of love too.

“Monsieur, fancy a dance?” Faith fluttered her lash-laced eyes. I responded with my squeaky rubber bone version of a nod. We danced under the moon to the sweet tunes of the Pawsburg midnight orchestra. I twirled her around Tail Wagger’s Tailor, with Tessa and Goliath providing the background score of rhythmic snoring from Beagle Beach in their dreams.

I had never felt this way for any other dog before. She had the grace of a swan and the posture of a princess. Oh, sweet Frenchie Faith was making sense in everything that hadn’t made sense before. The world was spinning around us; no citrus, no thunder, only us.

Her laugh opened up the sunrise over East Bulldog Bay. Frenchie Faith had won my pit bull heart over, bringing an end to another Pawsburg adventure. Albeit this time, it was one hell of a romantic comedy, a memorable one. It was not just about frolic and fun; it was about finding an unexpected turn of love in the paws-ed twists of life.

And so, there I was, waking up with the sunrise, Frenchie Faith nestled by my side, a jar of peanut butter in my paw, and a grin spread across my iconic thick head. Life was good.

The End.