Hey there!

Just had the wildest day ever! Turns out my red ball is like a canine TARDIS and now Daisy, Chico, Max, and I are accidental time travelers. We’ve sniffed around from ancient Rome to the Sand Dunes of Giza! If history had a flavor, I tasted the whole menu (except fish – ew). Back home now, can’t wait to spill the beans at our next dog park rendezvous! 🐾

Tail wags and time hops,
Coco

Listen to the story here

My dear confidant, I trust this missive finds you in ruffle-perfect health, for I am about to recount an adventure that is bound to curl your whiskers in astonishment. The tail – I mean, tale – begins on a most ordinary day in our quaint Pawsburgh.

I, Coco, was indulging in one of my habitual jaunts through Garnet Greyhound Grove, with Daisy, Chico, and obstinate Max tailing behind. Our little party resembled the fellowship of furry wanderers, united by the bond of mischievous endeavors and a taste for adventure – venison and sweet potato for your truly; the others favor more pedestrian meals.

Our day began without fanfare. That is, until I chanced upon that peculiar lamppost at Samoyed Square, the one draped in ivy, which I swear wasn’t there the day prior. Yet as Daisy discussed her latest grooming escapade, and Max aired his grievances about a particularly uppity squirrel, I felt the unmistakable lure of discovery.

Despite my companions’ relentless chatter, I approached the lamppost and – with a preparatory waggle of the rump – nudged my beloved red ball against its base. To our collective astoundment (a shock which even stilled Max’s grumbles), the air shimmered like the surface of our park’s tranquil pond, and with a soft ‘pop,’ we found ourselves no longer in Pawsburgh, but amid the hustle of ancient Rome.

The scent of the marketplace was overwhelming, even for Pawsburg standards – olives, leather, and, regrettably, fish, filled my discerning nostrils. Chico declared the whole affair to be ‘un poco loco,’ but the four of us, being of the canine persuasion, managed to pass as ordinary Roman hounds, albeit dressed in our contemporary collars.

We trotted beside the Roman forums, wagging amongst togas and sandals when, quite suddenly, I espied a local pup with a ball not unlike my own. A curious contrivance, as the red rubber variety was decidedly lacking in ancient Rome. Chico, perpetually observant, deduced that this puppy was a time-traveler like ourselves, perhaps a resident of Pawsburgh we had yet to be acquainted with.

Pooling our collective canine sagacity, we devised a plan to navigate this temporal riddle. That was, of course, after savoring the local venison (utterly divine, historian be praised) and leaving untouched the bountiful fish (emphatically, not my cup of tea).

Our odyssey took us from Rome to the Middle Ages, where jousting sticks proved excellent for fetching, then to a Victorian-era village where Max nearly instigated a kerfuffle with a street vendor’s dog – much to the disapproval of the local gentry.

It was during the Great Egyptian era when we were mistaken for deities that our fourth comrade, the timeworn Giza pup, approached us. He imparted that our red balls were “anomalies of Anubis,” with powers to woof – I mean, weave – through epochs and sands of time.

Through means of some ubiquitous sniffing and a fervent game of chase, we managed to coax the necessary incantations from our newfound friend, returning to Pawsburgh just as the Barking Boutique was opening its shutters for the twilight trade.

To be back amidst the familiar comforts of Pups’ Parfait and The Canine Cafe was enough to soothe the erstwhile burdens of inter-era peregrination. And as I rest upon my cushion, dictating this tale, I can assert that one’s heart does fondly grow for the magical cobbles of Pawsburgh, no matter where in time one’s paws might wander.

So, my faithful reader, join me in a resolute paw shake to the exploits yet to come. May our tails never diminish in their wagging, and our adventures be as boundless as the timelines we tread.

The End.