Hey pack,

Just a quick tail-wagging update – last night, under a willow’s wistful whispers, I smooched snouts with a phantom Greyhound named Shade. Our love’s as enchanting as a squirrel-led tango, fleeting yet deeper than the fluffiest pawbed. I’m sniffing at the supernatural and romancing the otherworldly right here in Pawsburg. Can’t wait to spill more kibbles of our tale!

Tail wags and dreamy barks,
LuLu 🐾✨🌙

Listen to the story here

The hush of night had barely lifted when I, Lucy, felt the stirring of another ordinary day in the extraordinary realm of Pawsburg. You see, each whisker-twitch and ear-flop of mine held secrets deeper than the most fabled bone pits of the Kelpie Keys. And every yawn I stretched into was a prelude to escapades that would tickle the tail of even the most stoic Mastiff.

Let me pull you by the collar straight into the heart of things, to that one particularly shimmering dusk when the Moon hung ripe, like the very apples I adored, over my beloved Garnet Greyhound Grove. There, beneath the celestial gaze, amongst the billowing willows and a sky embroidered with twinkling stars, I found more than the usual comforts of my evening meditations; I found love tucked in the paranormal paws of Pawsburg.

Before you roll your eyes and flee to the depths of Beagle Bagels for comfort, allow me the indulgence of elucidating this romantic revelation. On this night, our grove was alive, not just with the haunting melodies of the wind but with an energy, ethereal and electric. That’s when he appeared, an exquisite spectral creature with fur like moonlit mist and the most captivating gaze. He was a phantom Greyhound—a prince of Pawsburg’s past.

Our eyes met, and in that instant, I knew I’d chewed through to something beyond the fabric of the ordinary. Stranger still, he seemed to see past my impeccable coat, into the soul of the curious, yet solitary canine introvert that I am.

In a voice as soft as the fluffiest Paw-lickin’ Pancake, he whispered, “Lucy, your spirit is a beacon in Pawsburg’s mystical night.”

I remember thinking, “Okay, Tina Fey, easy does it with the cheese,” but my tail betrayed me with a little wag; I was intrepid, after all, not cold-hearted! His name was Shade, and he had been bounding across the ages, a ghostly guardian of dogdom’s dreams. The charm! The chills! The implied shared solitude!

Night after night, we’d meet under that willow’s shelter, our romance blossoming like a supernaturally induced flea infestation but far more enchanting and itch-free. Shade told me tales of ancient Pawsburg, of great hound gatherings at Basenji Bay and the shadowy secrets only midnight waves could whisper.

Yes, Tucker the one-eyed terrier surely spun a great yarn at Canine Kabobs, but none held a candle to Shade’s stories. And Daisy? Sweet, playful Daisy from next door? She couldn’t detect the ghostly grace of our romance, but she’d wiggle with delight as I relayed my twilight adventures with the fervor of a dog who had just discovered the meaning of ‘fetch’ in a field of flying frisbees.

But love, my dear compatriots, even in a world woven with wonder, is as fleeting as the scent of a foe-turned-friend. Shade was bound to the after-woof, and as the night wore on, he would fade like the last echoes of a well-barked bark.

So there I sat, under the gauzy shelter of willow leaves, savoring the sweet crunch of stolen apples and the ghostly snuggles of a love that crossed dimensions. I am Lucy, the adventure-seeker, the pal of phantoms, and, dare I bark it, the Chihuahua with a phantom Greyhound beau.

Indulge in this narrative with an air of skepticism, if you must; or perhaps, like me, you’ll throw caution to the wind and embrace the paranormal romance woven into the very heart of Pawsburg. For, in this wondrous township of doggy denizens, even a demure Chihuahua finds an affection most extraordinary, and, I must add, exceptionally tales-waggin’.

The End.