Hey human,

Quick life update since you’ve missed the last few episodes of ‘Chrissy’s Chronicles’ – I managed to find romance amid the Pawsburg pandemonium, chaos ensued at Barking Brunch, and yep, carrots are still the bane of my existence. But turns out, love can blossom for a refined chihuahua, especially with a Spaniel who’s as sweet as the treats at Mrs. Peterson’s. I’ll spill the kibble next time we chat!

Catch you on the flip side,

The Petite Dramatist (aka Christine L Gleason)

Listen to the story here

You know, it’s not easy being a chihuahua with a taste for the dramatic, but someone’s got to do it. Life in Pawsburg is as bustling as a dog park at peak hour—always someone new sniffing around your business. Love, on the other hand, is as elusive as a cat on a hot tin roof. But Chrissy—that’s me—well, I’m ready to tell you about the time my heart did the tango amidst the comedy of errors that is Pawsburg.

So there I was at Hound Heights, soaking up the sun, when who should I see but Sally, tail wagging like a metronome set to prestissimo. Sally’s got the scoop on everything, and she says, “Chrissy, have you heard the newbie at Shar-Pei Shores? They say he’s a Spaniel with eyes like the deepest lagoon.”

Now, I normally like to keep to Mrs. Peterson’s cozy bakery, where the pastries are plentiful and the warm hum of the oven is as comforting as a well-fluffed cushion. But the mention of this Spaniel, well, it intrigued me in a way that I usually reserve for a new squeaky bone. But romance? That plot requires more than a wagging tail; it needs a twist of fate and perhaps a dash of canine charm.

One must realize that my experience with love is about as rich as a diet of carrot sticks, which I find as palatable as cardboard. But there he was, on Papillon Promenade, trotting about with such an air that I swore I could hear violins—or maybe that was just the squeak of my beloved rubber bone I inadvertently brought along.

“Hi, I’m Christine,” I started—tongue-wagging, heart-thumping out of my diminutive chest. He flashed me a toothy grin, “Romeo, a pleasure.” Romeo! His name itself suggested that he was no stranger to romantic escapades.

Our dialogue ambled like a leisurely walk in the park. Woody Allen would’ve scripted us fur-balls as naturally mismatched—me with my selective tastes (except for my disdain for rabbit food masquerading as vegetables) and him, well, he’d eat anything not nailed down. And his jokes? They were, how shall I put this? A little ruff around the edges. But behind his howlers, there was something… charming.

We decided to indulge at Barking Brunch, where I discovered his penchant for performing tricks. A backflip for a biscuit, a sit pretty for a scone, it was darling—and showy. But I’m a chihuahua, not a golden retriever; I prefer to chew on the finer things in life, like a philosophical debate or the end of a good squeaky toy.

Then, the inevitable mishap—salad was served, and from it, a carrot confronted me, an orange spear of disdain, and next to it—horror of horrors—a slice of pizza toppled over, decorating Romeo with a rather fetching tomatoey mustache. It was almost an existential moment, underlaid with comedy: should one wail in despair or bark in laughter?

The next thing I knew, everything fell to a comedic tempo—we both fell into a ridiculous, un-choreographed dance, avoiding lettuce leaves and dodging carrot sticks, while Sally and Max cheered, barking at our lunacy like we were the final act at the Furry Friends Art Gallery.

In the midst of our chaos, our eyes met—mine, brindle-striped and his, deep-lagoon—and, my friends, it was like warm bread popping out from Mrs. Peterson’s oven—comforting, delightful, and just a little bit magical.

So, who would have thought it? Chrissy the persnickety chihuahua, tumbling paw over tiny paw for a Spaniel who wore his heart on his fur sleeve, and who believed that even a doggie biscuit could be made sweeter with a touch of romance. Pawsburg may be a hubbub of canine capers, but it’s also a place where even the most particular of pups can find love among the leftovers.

The End.