Hey fam,

Just wanted to let you know I’ve turned detective and peacekeeper rolled into one fluffy package here in Pawsburg. Solved the mystery of the sabotaged Thanksgiving parade and turned a bitter misfit mutt into a buddy. We’re all about the love and fixin’ bonds now – Pawsburg’s got a new shining star on its paws. Holiday cheer’s at an all-time high!

Catch you after the parade!

Ted E Bear 🐾🦃🕵️‍♂️

Listen to the story here

It was a crisp evening in Pawsburg, when I, Ted E Bear, found myself sprawled on my beloved blanket, pawing around for a chunk of peanut butter pumpkin delight I’d buried for safe snacking. “Ted,” Tiny had often mewed, “why not just enjoy it all at once?” But cats, you see, know nothing of the pleasure in delayed gratification.

Normally, this time of year, Sapphire Schnauzer Street would be a bustle of barks and wagging tails—preparations for the grand Thanksgiving Day parade underway. However, this evening, a hush fell over Pawsburg like a thick blanket, not unlike my own—only far less cozy and more… sinister.

I heaved myself up, my heart pounding, more out of the ordinary exertion than fright, and strutted towards Weimaraner Woods. The townsfolks’ decorations lay in shambles, the prized turkey float was plucked to its bare bones, and to top it all off, rumors growled that Snout Snacks had been burgled of its biscuit buffet. A mystery was afoot, or rather, a-muzzle.

The towns-dogs gathered at Onyx Otterhound Oasis, usually an enclave of serene sipping, now a hubbub of anxious yips and yaps. I could tell they were all shaken. All except for the Sabretooth Chihuahua, who always looked naturally jittery with those bug eyes that seemed perpetually surprised at the size of her own teeth.

“Woe upon Pawsburg!” a Griffon mutt wailed dramatically, a bit too much for my tastes. “The Thanksgiving Day parade will be a canine catastrophe!”

Enough was enough. Rising up amid the chaos, I clenched my trusty tug toy—a symbol of resilience and play—and decided to lead the pack. “Friends,” I barked, “We shall sniff out this saboteur—and invite them to dine with us, should they choose the path of reformation.”

We split up. I trotted through town with a spirit of dogged determination, past the Howling Husky Hardware Store where the wrenches now hung in dispirited ranks and the Furry Friends Art Gallery where portraits of renowned doges looked unusually solemn.

It was at the Paw Pad Thai where we regrouped, a place usually booming with flavors and furry comrades. Now, it was as quiet as the Woof and Whisker Wellness Center’s meditation hour.

Through whispers and wags, we pieced together the clues. A shadow had been seen, a misfit mutt, always hovering at the parade’s edge, with the sort of scowl you’d get mixing vinegar with vanilla—intensely sour with no sweetness to be found.

“Let’s say you and this pariah happened to have a heart-to-heart,” mused my friend, a Dalmatian dame with a detective’s insight, “what would you say?”

I pondered, took a mental swipe at leftover pumpkin guts, and replied, “That every dog has its day, but Pawsburg has room for nights, too. That this parade isn’t just about floats and feasts but friends and family, canine and otherwise.”

It was Tiny who led us to the misfit mutt, huddled in a corner, behind Barking Brunch, which was now disappointingly lackluster in terms of both barking and brunch.

“You there,” I addressed the culprit, my voice more gravy than growl, “join us, join Pawsburg. Mend what’s been broken—not the parade trifles, but this bond among us all.”

To everyone’s surprise, especially the Chihuahua’s, the misfit mutt nodded, nudged forward by Tiny. We put our paws to work, and with each repair, it felt not just like a parade coming together but a family.

That evening, under a wash of moonlight, Pawsburg’s Thanksgiving Day parade shone brighter than ever, the true spirit of togetherness outshining the saboteur’s former bitterness. I, Ted E Bear, looked on—with Tiny at my side, our once-shadowy friend now laughing in the light—and knew this was a Thanksgiving we’d all carry with us, long after the last float passed and the final biscuit was devoured.

The End.