Hey Mom,

Just wanted to share that today, as Pawsburg’s undercover ace, I sniffed out the Milk-Bone Mafia’s stash at the Newfoundland Nook. Exposed them with my blend of charm and canine couture, and then served justice with a side of wagging tail. Life’s back to normal: sticks, laughs, and naps. Your clever boy, Kyros, is once again the town’s furry hero. Keep the snacks ready!

Furliciously yours,
Kai 🐾✨

Listen to the story here

Ah, I see you’ve snuck yourself into my world—not that I mind, of course. In the peculiar township of Pawsburg—where the fire hydrants shine like gold and the lampposts are always in a forgiving mood—I, Kyros, the Australian cattle dog of certain smarts and unquestioned charms, find myself entangled in a bit of a tail-twister.

You see, Pawsburg wasn’t always just about the belly rubs and the chasing of one’s aspirations (and tails). Not since the Milk-Bone Mafia began hounding the corners of our very own Topaz Terrier Town, disrupting the peaceful woofs and wags with their ill-gotten treats. An organized pack they were, clandestine meetings under the moonlight, exchanging illicit snacks that were not FDA approved or, heaven forbid, organic.

One night, after much frolicking and philosophizing on why humans can’t appreciate the sublime taste of a simple tennis ball, I trotted down to the legendary eatery, Paw Pad Thai. But that night, the aromatics of peanut sauce and basil were overwhelmed by a clandestine murmur. I padded closer, ears perked to the sounds of scheming, the scraping of claws against the kitchen’s linoleum floor morphing into a growl of conspiracy.

“You smell delightful, like a gentle morning dew mixed with the faintest hint of postman,” I noted to the chef, who wagged his tail in appreciation. But pleasantries aside, there was sniffing to do. Under the cover of sampling a spring roll, I eavesdropped on the Milk-Bone Mafia’s next move.

Deciding on a plan to expose their underhanded dealings, the next morning I donned the latest from Canine Couture Clothing—because why be inconspicuous when you can be fabulous? I patted my way toward the notorious Newfoundland Nook to fetch the evidence. The Nook was known to be a front, its shaggy facade hiding more than just slobber and that new puppy smell.

Upon arrival, it was clear something was amiss. The air smelled foul, like an overripe sausage left out in the rain. I found the stash, hidden amongst a pile of particularly natty knitted scarves from The Tail Wagger’s Tailor—bones, mountains of Milk-Bones, stacked with the precision that only a devious, scheming hound could muster. My tail couldn’t help but wag at the sight of such monstrosity, yet I knew this bounty must be brought to light.

Before the day’s end, the Milk-Bone Mafia was collared. They yelped about their rights to a phone call or perhaps just a good scratching behind the ears. I laid my testimony before the Pawsburg Pawthorities, recounting my daring investigation, always quick to interject with a witty quip or an overly detailed description of the food I stole—I mean sampled—during my quest.

My friends listened with rapt attention as I regaled them with my exploits, their jaws hanging possibly due to the gripping drama, but most likely in hopes of a dropped treat. There’s always one in the audience, isn’t there?

And so, with the criminal kennel krew kiboshed, life in Pawsburg returned to its usual routine of sunbathing shenanigans, the laughter of children, and the pursuit of the ultimate stick. The tale of Kyros and the Milk-Bone Mafia would be recounted for doggy generations, likely gaining an extra chase scene or two with each telling.

But let’s leave that for another vignette, shall we? For now, it’s time for a nap. And remember, in Pawsburg, even the most obedient paw can pen justice into the books. Farewell, my two-legged confidant. Keep the treats coming, and the secrets safe.

The End.