Hey hooman, just orchestrating Pawsburgh’s furry affairs and keeping tails wagging without raising heckles. Steered clear of peas, kept my plush hedgehog safe, and called the council—Pawsburgh’s serenity is in my paws, literally. Canine capers continue; will fill you in later over kibble. Stay pawsome! – Friday 🐾

Listen to the story here

So, there I was, standing at the intersection of Lhasa Lane and Dachshund Dale, my black and white coat shimmering under the noonday sun of Pawsburgh, pondering my next move. The kind of contemplation that could lead a dog down a rabbit hole—or should I say, a hedgehog hole. That’s me, Friday, keepin’ an eye on the comings and goings of this town while minding my own interests.

Now, in the hushed whispers of the alleyways and over the delicate crunching of kibble at Canine Café, they speak of The Petfather, the paw behind the power. The stories, my friends, swim around me, a benevolent guardian of the day’s peace, the patchwork quilt of Pawsburgh’s bones ‘n’ bites tightly bound by an unspoken understanding.

Word on the street had it that some mangy mutt from the outskirts was lookin’ to shimmy his way into our neatly groomed hedges. So, as I trotted towards Shepherd’s Shawarma with Skip the terrier hot on my heels, I mulled over peacemaking and the preservation of the bone pile; it’s a delicate dance when you command respect without baring teeth.

The Shawarma joint wasn’t our usual haunt, but today I was feeling a craving for slices of chicken, tossed generously atop a pile of whatever Skip fancied.

“You planning on holdin’ court today, Friday?” Skip asked, his eyes narrow but tail wagging with the anticipation of stories to come.

I nodded just once, my gaze never leavin’ the horizon. “Duchess spill the kibble yet?”

He grinned, that look of mischief across his whiskered snoot. “She’s at The Groom Room, settin’ up the meet.”

Duchess, the pristine poodle with intelligence that’d outshine the fanciest purebred at the dog show, was my go-to for all things covert in Pawsburgh. Trips to Spa for Paws or The Barking Boutique weren’t just for glamour. Oh no, they were fronts for the family, maintainin’ our hold.

We hunkered down at a cozy table by the window of Shepherd’s Shawarma, the bustle of the outside world a mere backdrop to our clandestine converse.

“It’s all ’bout balance, Skip,” I said, sinking my teeth into the tender chicken. “An empire’s only as good as the loyalty it inspires.”

Skip gobbled down the food, nodding profusely. “Family is family, Friday. We got a good thing goin’ here.”

“That’s right.” I chewed thoughtfully, savoring the savory. “We look out for ours. Like that tattered plush hedgehog of mine.” My eyes might’ve glazed over a bit at the mention of my beloved trinket, but I was quick to the draw. “It’s not just a toy, it’s a symbol. It’s us, triumph. Triumph against peas, triumph against chaos.”

“It’s genius, Friday. Anyone tries to cross us, and they’ll be chasin’ their own tails out of town.”

The sun dipped low, casting long shadows down Mastiff Meadows. I felt the responsibility, the weight of unspoken words and actions lie heavy on my heart. The time had come to make an offer no canine could refuse.

Later, at the summit of my people—an assembly where fur met fate—I laid down the bones. “We’re family,” I said, “and Pawsburgh is our territory. All for one, one for all, united under the moon’s glow. And let it be known—we do not partake in peas!”

A chorus of barks resounded, and I stood proud, the Petfather of this doggone delightful town.

As the council dispersed to their nightly frolics and the stars blinked awake, one thing was as clear as a polished water bowl: here in Pawsburgh, ‘neath the watchful eyes of our humans-turned-dreamers, we had carved out a little piece of paradise. And with my pals Skip and Duchess by my side, we’d keep writin’ the tales that’d curl the tails of every dog back home.

So, here’s to you, Pawsburgh, a sanctuary of ‘paws and reflect.’ May your stories be as boundless as the fields we run and as savory as the chicken we cherish. For in this life, you’re only as good as the pack you lead, and I, Friday, was leading the best.

The End.