Hey Mom,

Got falsely accused of swiping a brush in Pawsburgh, wrongfully jailed. Had to Shawshank my way out with the squeak of my bone and Daisy’s help. Now I’m a free innocent pup again, hanging in the park with the good Samaritans who knew my worth. Quite the adventure! Give me a bark sometime.

Tail wags,
Thor 🐾

Listen to the story here

Now, I reckon y’all have met ol’ Thor, the Brindle German Shepherd, whose stature cuts quite the figure ‘gainst the backdrop of our beloved Pawsburg. A solitary soul I be, with stripes that’d make the mightiest oak tree quiver. But let me impart to y’all a peculiar tale of wits, wherein a shrewd turn of events had yours truly cornered in a bind I wouldn’t wish on the mangiest of curs.

It all started on a day as auspicious as any in the heart of Sapphire Schnauzer Street, where the glisten of canine couture is outdone only by the shimmerin’ of doggy dreams. I was ambling my way to my sanctuary, the park, with not but my red squeaky bone for company—a possession more dear to me than the juiciest bone in Setter’s Steakhouse.

Now, Daisy, the Dalmatian with spots as symmetrical as stars in their constellations, had ventured with me that morn. She’s a sprightly one, and not oft one to misjudge. I regard her companionship as a man might regard a solitary book on a long, lonesome journey—it’s a trifling matter until it’s all you’ve got.

As I reveled in the park, the day’s tranquility got shattered. Barking broke out like a thunderclap as The Doggie Daycare’s matron came squallin’ over the hills. “Thief!” she yelped. “A prized brush, snatched from The Dapper Dog Salon!” And wouldn’t you know it, my serene stroll turned into a spectacle, with every eye on me, Thor, silent and strong, now wrongfully accused!

With no more evidence than my dignified demeanor by the flower beds adjacent to the salon, I found myself snatched up like a common mongrel and planted squarely in the Pawsburgh Pound, a place as dismal as a rainy Monday with no fireplace warmth in sight. The injustice rankled. By what right should I spend my days ‘hind these cold bars while the real perpetrator roved free, I pondered?

‘Twas then I resolved, with a heart as heavy as it was resolute, to do what any dog with a lick of sense would: chart a course for freedom. I had to break out lest my good name be draped in infamy, a prospect as fearsome as a pickle on a bed of mashed sweet potatoes.

So set I to work, usin’ that wily spirit of mine. Nights turned to days, days to weeks, and the moon waxed and waned as I formulated my escape. With nary a sound, I used the squeak of my bone—a sound most familiar, like the creakin’ of a door in the wind—as a cover for my work. A tunnel, concealed by my bed, was my means of egress, and Daisy, bless her loyal heart, carried messages tucked beneath her collar between myself and the world beyond.

The eve of my great escape was upon us. Daisy, with her spots bright as dashes of moonlight and stealth of a creature borne of shadows, spread word to our mutual allies at Spaniel Spaghetti, who’d distract the guard with a banquet fit for a king. And ’twas working splendidly, until—that is—a grievous thunderstorm broke out, and with it the threat of turning my carefully dug tunnel into nothin’ but a sodden grave.

Yet fate smiled upon me as the tempest washed away the scents of my labor. As guards huddled for shelter, I seized upon the tumult, bolted through the tunnel, and emerged to freedom and a town sleeping soundly under the watchful gaze of the storm.

By dawn’s early light, I was but a shadow fading into Samoyed Square, the whisper of the wind my vindication. Pawsburgh never learned the truth of that night’s escape. Not out of malice, mind you, but ’cause a gentleman ne’er gloats.

You’ll find me now a free dog, with nary a stain upon my character nor bitterness in my heart. And if y’all were to pass by the park, just maybe, you’d see ol’ Thor alongside dear Daisy—each with a story to tell, each with a secret kept, and Pawsburg none the wiser. Lord willing and the creek don’t rise, that’s a morsel of truth to chew on till our paths cross again.

The End.

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