Hey Pops,

Just breezed through another chapter in the ‘Tales of Nelson’ here in Pawsburg. Been teaching the young pups the art of living: sniffing past vanity, savoring life’s car rides, and even wrestling with the dreaded tub. Found myself a new shadow in a terrier, proving every day’s a feast when shared. This old dog’s still learning, and it turns out being a mentor’s just another flavor in the banquet of life.

Stay waggy,
Nelly

Listen to the story here

So it goes, I found myself sniffing the fragrant breeze of Sapphire Schnauzer Street, the aromatics a clash of Pup’s Parfait and Whippet Wraps, a scentiferous symphony to any canine’s olfactory orchestra. I’m Nelson, by the by, custodian of charisma in the dog-dappled locus that is Pawsburg.

I must say, the pursuit of improvement is an itch beneath the collar—one I can’t shake, nor wish to. I ambled past The Barking Boutique, eyeing the latest in haute couture for the fashion-forward pup. “Vanity,” I mused aloud. “A needless scratching post for the ego. Right, Zach?” Zach, a Bichon with philosophical leanings, nodded from his sunning spot atop Briard Bridge.

This morning, my paws led me to Amber Akita Alley, dreaming of ice cream’s cold kiss on my tongue, but a conscious tug whispered, “Impulse is a puppy’s game.” Surely, I could be better.

And being better, I fancied with a sniff, might well begin with sharing more than my grumbly bark across Christine’s vet clinic. Souls circle us like unseen fleas, and what’s a bulldog to do but invite them in for a scratch?

“Why not?”

Nearby, a gaggle of eager ears: gnawed, folded, perky, and otherwise stood alert. My tales of roads roamed and the mountain’s quiet mystery had become a daily almanac for the young and curious.

“You see, pups,” I intoned, eyes narrow sentinels surveying their anticipation, “the road—eh, it’s life. Unpredictable. A car ride’s a poor thing to muse on, unless you’re hanging your head out the window. Then it’s just about perfect.”

Chuckles and tail wags peppered the audience. I remembered my first car ride, ears assaulted by wind, horizon a blurring buffet of colors. But the road taught me more about stillness than the contemplative silence ever could. The pups listened, heads cocked in admiration, paws stilled from their usual jitters.

“But what about the dreaded tub?” a round-eyed poodle interrupted, a quiver in her voice.

“Ah, the tub,” I sighed. “Like life—necessary, not always pleasant. You wade through or you dodge. Both choices have their perks. But whether you’re being scrubbed down or skirting the splash, you’ll find yourself clean—or clever—in the end.”

Sometimes, solitude weighed on me, not unlike the vet’s sign when they pinned it with needles for my shots. That’s when I reminded myself: we’re like kibble in a bowl, meant to be nestled together. Otherwise, what’s the point?

And that, young hounds, is the truth, chased down and tackled, according to Nelson.

Lunchtime beckoned, a grumbling in the gut that steered me toward today’s sustenance at Wagging Whisk. A small shadow detached from the rest, tail-wagging—a terrier who took my earlier words as an invitation to join.

“The road, eh?” he yapped, bouncing beside me. “What does it teach about food?”

“Oh, gastronomy?” I chortled. “Make peace with your beef, boy. But share — because the best cuts are the ones you give away.”

We relished the sweet gravy of camaraderie, the tender morsels of connection, and yes, a scoop of ice cream at Pup’s Parfait. I basked in the improvement of two souls—a grizzled mentor and a pint-sized protégé, engaged in the eternal dance of learning and teaching.

Being better, Pawsburg style, is not a lonesome trail to trot. It’s a pack affair, wiggly, noisy, sometimes messy—we’re canines, after all. And as my gaze, one blue, one brown, swept over my heart’s terrain, I knew.

Every wag, every woof, every whisper in the wind is a step closer to wherever it is we’re going. Together, tails high, hearts forward, we journey through Pawsburg—a delightful romp through the snarls and treats of the ever-after.

So it goes.

The End.