- Dog Tales
- November 21, 2023
Tails of Thanksgiving: A Pawsitively Inclusive Parade: A Charlie PawWord Story
Hey Mom,
Just saved Thanksgiving! Led a canine crew to sniff out the parade saboteur—turned out to be Marley, the rogue dog. We turned his mischief into art and welcomed him to our pack. Parade was a howling success and every bowl was filled with turkey AND veggies. I’m now Charlie the Peacemaker – who knew?! 🐾
Gotta run, leftovers await!
– Charlie
The morning Pawsburgh awoke to find Briard Bridge strung with torn streamers and Setter Shore’s parade floats with suspicious teeth marks was the same morning I, Charlie, Golden Retriever extraordinaire and unappointed guardian of fun, decided that something must be done. A sense of dread, heavier than a belly full of unapproved vegetable matter, settled amongst the townsfolk. It was the eve of Thanksgiving, and someone—or something—sought to crumble our traditions like dry dog biscuits.
My usual Earth-bound playground wasn’t my focus today. No, today, I trotted with purpose towards Affenpinscher Avenue, past Sniffer’s Sandwiches, where the wafting scent of chicken (the uncontested monarch of meats) failed to tempt me from my quest. It felt like the world had taken a page from a post-apocalyptic novel, with only the bravest of canine spirits daring to navigate the murky waters of this Thanksgiving conundrum.
It was in front of The Fetching Feline Pet Emporium that I gathered my gang—a medley of tail-waggers from terriers to toon-like mutts. We were a band of furry desperadoes, primed for sleuthing. But how does one start a mystery? Do we sniff out the culprit or just chew on it like a good idea?
I communicated my plan with a series of strategic barks and tail signals. The mission was two-fold: find the saboteur and remind them of the true meaning of Thanksgiving—without emerging on the other end looking like we had our ears chewed off by life.
The streets of Pawsburgh were eerie off-leash areas for our investigation, but I had Mickey, my chewed-at-the-ears sidekick toy, securely gripped in my mouth for courage. We patrolled past Best in Show Photography, reflecting on how we wanted to be remembered in those frames: as heroes who stood for turkey and togetherness.
I nosed through clues, overlooking my disdain for vegetables that even in this dire scenario, I wouldn’t touch. It all led us to the forsaken Clusterfluff Alley—a dodgy dead end where rumors had it, a rogue dog named Marley lurked.
Marley was a dog disenfranchised by festivities, having never felt the warmth of a pack or the joy a belly rub could bring, let alone participate in communal celebrations. His bitterness bubbled like a Thanksgiving pot unchecked. I approached him, ready for confrontation, but compassion outweighed the de-rigeur growl.
We found him brooding on compromises of his own, surrounded by half-chewed parade remnants. And in that moment, it struck me. Condemnation was the knee-jerk reaction, but understanding was the chainlink fence that could hold the yard of community together.
In the name of community, we invited Marley to join our parade brigade. Skepticism was evident in his snarl, but our wagging tails were convincing arguments.
The parade, in the end, was not just a parade. It was a victory lap. Marley contributed rogue-style flair, repurposing the chaos into avant-garde float decorations that had all the town dogs howling with delight.
As the sun set on Pawsburgh, painting the world in hues fit for a golden coat like mine, we celebrated. With Marley included, our table was no longer a circle but a spiral, constantly expanding to accommodate one more. We dined on turkey and, in a rare act of canid solidarity, even shared a nod of appreciation for the veggies.
Pawsburgh’s Thanksgiving parade was a portrait of inclusivity—a transformative feast where the only things that remained unsolved were how we’d manage all the leftovers. The roar of the vacuum cleaner would wait for another day—for tonight, we reveled in the true essence of Thanksgiving: a full belly, a myriad of friends, and a heart big enough to love the whole doggone world.
The End.
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