Hey Mom,

You wouldn’t believe the day I had! Pawsburgh’s normal charm was odd—turns out I’m the sentinel between reality and dreams! Had to navigate mysterious shifts and even talked to a scentless Doberman!! All in a day’s work. 🌟 Streets might look the same, but I sniffed out a cosmic role to keep the town’s magic alive. Give the humans my best bark; I’m on sentinel duty.

Woofs and wags,
Roadie 🐾✨

Listen to the story here

Picture this: just a regular sunrise in Pawsburgh, the kind that gilds the rooftops of The Fetching Feline Pet Emporium and makes the displays in The Snooty Snout Boutique look like a million bones. I’m stretched out in the bed I call sanctuary, but my mind’s whirring like the cursed vacuum beast. It’s a day unlike any other, and that ain’t just because it’s Tuesday.

You see, there’s something unnerving about the air in Pawsburgh, something that has nothing to do with the delightful scents wafting from Paw-lickin’ Pancakes. Last night’s dream had me prowling through the Emerald Eskimo Estuary, the stars blinking out one by one until I was left alone in an inky void.

Shaking off the eerie remnants of sleep, I trot past the dozy slumber of my human’s homestead. I can hear Pomeranian Park calling, whispering secrets through the leaves. It ain’t just any bark park; it’s the heart of Pawsburgh, where tails tangle with tales, and every snout is nosing for news.

“All quiet, Roadie?” That’s the voice of Marshall, the border collie who knows everything about everyone. He’s the unofficial mayor of this dog’s paradise.

“Quiet as a cat on carpet,” I reply with a grin, though I can’t shake the chill from last night’s celestial blackout. What’s a German Shepherd to do but investigate, right?

Off I gallop to Cocker Courtyard, the usual suspect when it comes to Pawsburgh peculiarities. The flowers there are wilting, their colors drained like a week-old water bowl. “Seen anything different today, Rosie?” I ask the sprightly spaniel I find there.

She nods, her curls bouncing. “The sky shivered,” she declares, and I know she’s onto something.

My steps quick, my mission clear, I head towards Snout Snacks when suddenly, Swoosh! The air quivers, the world tilts, and I’m on the other side of Setter’s Steakhouse, a place I’m sure didn’t exist a moment ago. And there’s a peculiar figure at the door—a Doberman with no scent, as if he stepped out of a dream.

We chat, or rather, I yap and he observes with a cryptic smile. “Things are not as they seem, Roadie,” he intones, his voice smooth as gravy on kibble.

And don’t I know it.

I hightail it back to Rosie who stares at where Setter’s Steakhouse stood just moments ago. “It’s gone, just like the stars in your dream!”

“Which means?” I ask, my heart thumping to a drum only I can hear.

“You bring balance, Roadie. You tilt the scales back.”

Turns out, this is no ordinary eeriness, it’s a duty—I’m to be the sentinel of both the seen and unseen.

So here I stand, my paws planted firmly, ball by my side. I’m the guardian, not only of my backyard but the frontier between waking and dreams. One toss of this ball, and the colors seep back into Cocker Courtyard, the stars returning to the sky above Emerald Eskimo Estuary.

I’m Roadie, the joyous German Shepherd, returning from my peculiar day in Pawsburgh with stories my humans won’t believe—or will they? That’s the wild wonder of this tail-wagging tale.

As the brilliance of Pawsburgh settles into the familiar, I realize something: maybe it ain’t just a sleepy town for dogs. Maybe, just maybe, it’s the heart of mystery itself, masked in a wag and a bark.

And as for Setter’s Steakhouse? Never saw the place since. But every once in a while, when the light hits the horizon just so, I could swear I see the shimmer of its sign. And that Doberman? Maybe he’s a friend I’ve yet to understand, or perhaps just the echo of a dream meant to lead a certain pup to his destiny.

The End.