Hey human, just saved Pawsburgh from an interdimensional vacuum portal – typical Tuesday. You missed quite the show! Pawsburgh’s finest (yes, me 😏) led the charge and reversed the chaos. Now, how about some extra treats for this heroic tail-wagger? Park later? 🐾🌀✨ – Lylah the Paw-some

Listen to the story here

It was a queer sort of day in Pawsburgh, the kind where the air tickled your whiskers with the scent of mystery and the unexpected. I, Lylah, with a heart as plucky as my mixed breed lineage, found myself prancing toward Pomeranian Park as the dawn gently handed the reins over to daylight.

Let’s not beat around the bush: I’m what you’d call a connoisseur of sunsets, but today, I was out for the sunrise. Solitude has its charm, what with my human companion busily snoring away, dreaming of melodies, and leaving me to the whims of adventure. My four paws carried me briskly, filled with the kind of cheerful zest that made my tail’s wag enviable.

By the time I trotted through the emerald gateway of Pomeranian Park, it was pretty clear that this was not your ordinary romp. There was a fuzziness in the atmosphere, as if the world was wearing a poorly-prescribed pair of spectacles. The trees stood still, unusually hushed.

I first noticed the oddity when I saw Max, the regal Golden, chasing his tail—in reverse. He spun with an elegance that defied canine physics, and for a moment I pondered whether he’d taken up ballet.

“Bella!” I called out, spotting the determined Corgi sprinting upside down beneath the oak-lined path, her little legs scribbling in the air as if gravity had decided to play hooky.

“Lylah!” she barked back excitedly, fur tousled by the anti-gravitational frolic. “Seems like Pawsburgh’s got itself in a twisty tangle of peculiar happenings, don’t you think?”

As we exchanged baffled glances, a wagging hound from Happy Hounds Dog Walking floated by, tethered only by the leash of his equally perplexed walker. It was then I resolved to investigate. A dog’s got to do what a dog’s got to do, even if it was a scooch on the ‘Stranger’ side of things.

Off I ambled to the Woof and Whisker Wellness Center, the logical place to sniff out any leads on the situation. As I approached, a drowsy Beagle stumbled out with a thermometer still sticking out from his ear.

“Anything peculiar in there?” I asked, my nose twitching at the scent of antiseptic and confusion.

“It’s b-b-bananas in there, Lylah!” the Beagle stuttered. “Doc was trying to examine Jenkins, and he just… floated up, like a balloon!”

By now, my spine felt the tingle of a good puzzler, and I was all in, like a poker player who’s just seen another’s tell. We needed a plan—a conference with the finest four-legged minds in Pawsburgh. We convened at Doggone Deli; thank heavens their peanut butter biscuits hadn’t taken to the skies, though they seemed to disappear fast enough into the gullets of my fellow mutts.

Gathering around a table, the conversations buzzed like flies around a picnic. Ideas volleyed back and forth: cosmic anomalies, secret government experiments, an upset tummy of the universe—but it was Bella, bless her short-legged genius, who hit the nail on the head.

“If things are turnin’ topsy-turvy, maybe we oughta look for what’s normally outta place!” she suggested, and all snouts turned toward the one contraption we collectively detested—the vacuum cleaner.

Indeed, there it was at the heart of Harrier Harbor, growling deceitfully quiet, a vortex of eerie calm amid chaos. It took some doing (and dodging), but collectively we cornered the monstrosity. It was the vacuum cleaner alright, but not as we knew it—it was an interdimensional portal, sucking in the sensibilities of our world and blowing out the rules of another.

With a tug and a pull (and quite a bit of slobber), we managed to switch it ‘Off’, returning the laws of our universe to their rightful place. It was a day’s work indeed, but for us of Pawsburgh, it was all in a dog’s day.

Sunset found me back at the park, sprawled with contentment as the skies painted its apology across the horizon. I let out a soft, tired bark, because sometimes, to feel alive, all a dog needs is a good romp with the impossible.

The End.

Share This Story: