Yo human! 🐾 It’s ya boy Nikko B., Pitbull surgeon & Pawsburg’s hero. Just rocked a rooftop rescue, patched up a dauntless dachshund who couldn’t defy gravity. Pancakes fueled the drama, but it’s my medical mojo that saved the day. Meet at Doggone Deli for a tail’s tale over a BLT? 🥓 Keep your paws crossed, every day’s an adventure here! 🌟 Catch ya on the flip side, Nikko B.

Listen to the story here

In the magical town of Pawsburg, every dawn is a silent promise of mischief, every twilight a soft murmur of secrets shared beneath the moon. But on the eve of the Hound-solstice, even the stars seemed to wag in anticipation.

I guess I should introduce myself first, shouldn’t I? Nikko B., pitbull extraordinaire. If loyalty could be bottled, honey, I’d be the elixir everyone’s clamoring for.

Now let me whisk you away to the day that started like any other, with a jaunt to Husky’s Hotcakes – because, let’s be real, a stack of pancakes was the only acceptable way to kick things off. But that’s the moment life decided to throw a doggy treat of drama my way.

“Emergency at Hound Heights!” yelped Max, his beagle honk causing more ripples than a pebble in Basenji Bay. “They need all paws on deck!”

Before you could say ‘gimme paw’, Pawsburg’s finest were tailing it to the skyscrapers that scraped our little piece of heaven. Hound Heights – not quite as snooty as it sounds, but it’s definitely where the top dogs hung their leashes. And today, it seemed, they needed a hero with a stethoscope.

You see, I moonlight as Dr. Nikko Barkatine, a surgeon with four legs and a nose for diagnostics. My ensemble of theatrics and medicine could make Shonda Rhimes do a double take.

“So, what do we have?” I asked, strutting into the chaos like the lead in the latest medical drama, floppy ears scrubbed clean of the maple syrup stains from breakfast.

“Pawsley,” Max answered, his droopy eyes mirroring the gravity of the situation. “Rooftop fiasco. Thought he could fly. Spoiler alert: he couldn’t.”

Pawsley, the town’s notorious daredevil dachshund, lay sprawled among the geraniums of the roof garden, whining a tune of regret. His aerial escapades had crash-landed, and now it was up to Dr. Barkatine to save the day.

My team at Pawchester Hospital – a corgi that trotted as if the very notion of ‘walk’ offended her, a stately Mastiff anesthesiologist who could doze you with a single gaze, and a spaniel nurse whose curls were the envy of Pawsburgh – gathered around the patient.

“Pawsley,” I said, my deep-set chocolate eyes meeting his own round, anxious pair. “You can’t spell ‘dachshund’ without ‘dare’. But today we’re going to have to add an ‘e’ for ‘easy’, because you need to chill, my long-bodied friend.”

With a cocktail of gentle nudges and a medicinal lick or two, I set to work, repairing the dreams and, more importantly, the sprains of Pawsley the not-so-flighty.

Hours later, with the drama folded up like the end of a perfectly scripted episode, we retreated to the Doggone Deli for celebratory sandwiches – pastrami for Max, a classic BLT (Bacon, Lick, and Turkey) for yours truly.

As we sat under the painted skies, our shadows stretching over the cobblestones of Pawsburgh, we exchanged that day’s stories, knowing well that they would turn into the whispers shared with our humans – a tale of heroics and heart, of a Pitbull surgeon and his assiduous crew.

With my victory, a savory spoonful of peanut butter awaited me back home – a fitting end to any narrative, I’d say. In Pawsburg, we’re more than just dogs, we’re characters in an endless story, our escapades woven into the heartbeat of this magical place.

So, remember my face – er, I mean name – Nikko B., when the world seems ordinary. Because somewhere, in a town named Pawsburg, a Pitbull surgeon is making it extraordinary. And who knows? One day, I might just save your tail too.

The End.