Hey Soph 🌙,

It’s your undercover adventurer, Minnie! Just wanted you to know that tonight, behind the innocent snoring, I’m saving Pawsburgh from a spooky specter and rescuing our four-legged friends. 😎🐾 Expect cuddles and heroic tales at dawn! 🌅

Wags and whiskers,
Minnie 🐶💖✨

Listen to the story here

One might assume that Pawsburgh is just a whimsical reverie, a charming notion. But for a French Bulldog like me, Minnie by name, this hidden hamlet was as real as the heart-shaped patch on my chest.

It was a crisp eve when Sophie had tucked me under the quilt, her soft voice whispering dreams of squirrels that could not outrun my stubby legs. Little did she know, I had an assignation in mysterious Pawsburgh—a town where us canines could partake in our own clandestine capers. I awaited the reassuring snores of my beloved girl before I slipped away like a shadow into the night.

On paws as quiet as a cat burglar on velvet, I trotted towards the moon-kissed path where adventure beckoned. My heart was aflutter—it always was when I thought of the mischief I’d embark upon at Cavalier Cove or Lhasa Lane. Yet, tonight’s intrigue lay somewhere else. My destination was Quartz Qimmiq Quarter, a place that gleamed under the blanket of stars with an eerie luster, as if portending an escapade more thrilling than any dog could dream.

As I delved deeper into the lanes of Pawsburgh, my spirit bright with anticipation, the rustle of the leaves underfoot was the only sound aside from my breath. The town was eerily silent. Suddenly, Beagle Bagels and Canine Cafe stood deserted, abandoned by snack-seeking pups. A chill raced down my spine—something was afoot. My friends, the executors of the eternal chatter during our nocturnal escapades, were nowhere to be seen.

Ahead, The Groom Room loomed, its door slightly ajar. How peculiar for the beautifying bastion! Pawsburgh, with its denizens alert to the slightest noise, would never allow such a slip. I pushed open the door with my snout, the familiar smells of chamomile shampoos replaced by a pungent, electric scent of danger.

“Minerva,” said a familiar voice, its tone grave, “we’ve been expecting you.”

I jolted at the name—only the roguishly charming raccoon with his mischievous grin called me by such a moniker. But as I turned, it was not he who stood before me, but our feline oracle from next door. “Follow me, there’s no time!” she urged, her wise eyes clouded with urgency.

Through a labyrinth of shops and eateries, we whisked—her lithe form guiding me, my senses alert to a menace unknown. And then it hit me—the Groom Room, The Woofy Bakery, The Pawfect Training Center—all had been seized in hush-hush fashion by an ominous force.

We halted in a nook behind Pup’s Poutine. It was there, in whispered conference, I learned of a plot most vile. Dogs across Pawsburgh had vanished behind the ethereal fog rising from Quartz Qimmiq Quarter. It was said that a sinister presence had emerged with the last full moon, a specter of canine folklore which sought to sever our connection to the human world.

With grim determination, I knew my quest. My courage, fueled by the very same feistiness that sent autumn leaves chasing before me, emboldened my spirit. This peril would not stand. With heart-pounding, I plotted to unravel this enigmatic force, to rescue my comrades, and return to the warm nest of Sophie’s arms.

And thus my tail—er, tale—unfolds with claw-biting suspense, my friends. For in Pawsburgh, even a petite bulldog such as I may unearth her reservoir of valor. As twilight waned and dawn approached, would I thwart the shadow? Ah, dear reader, only the rustle of pages yet to turn knows for certain.

The End.