Hey there!🌟 Daisy here with a quick tail-wagging update. I sorta became the unofficial welcoming committee for some aliens in Pawsburgh tonight. No biggie: just guided some interstellar tourists back on track with a side of Rottweiler’s Ribs and neighborhood charm. Think Peace Ambassador with a penchant for peanut butter! 🐾 Catch you at daybreak, minus the alien fanfare. – Daze

Listen to the story here

When I tell you that Pawsburgh was invaded, you might picture us, the valiant canines, bounding into battle with tails high and teeth bared. But honestly, it was rather more dignified and considerably less chaotic. It’s me, Daisy, bringing you another anecdote from the neighborhood that not even the Johnsons’ heroic yarns could compete with.

It began like any other night in Pawsburgh – Max sniffing dirt on Schnauzer Street, Bella chasing her Frisbee in Topaz Terrier Town, and Oscar lounging on his porch, perhaps pondering over the existential plight of a stuffed chew toy. And I? Reveling in the last licks of peanut butter from my dinner on Mutt Munchies’ alfresco pew.

Then, with a flair for the dramatic, the sky blinked with lights that were not our familiar twinkling stars. In fact, these lights had a peculiar rhythm, much like my wagging tail when presented with a perplexing puzzle, yet with a nuance that spoke of…intergalactic Morse code? Well, whatever it was, it wasn’t from around here. Not from Pawsburgh, and certainly not from any alley around the Doggy Depot.

Enter our extraterrestrial guests, who possessed all the grace of a newborn fawn on a frozen pond. They beamed down with antennas twitching, which, between you and me, looked nothing like the T.V. antennas we’d sneak a nibble of during our earthly escapades. They were an odd bunch – hovering, emitting a low hum, and (I shouldn’t snicker, but…) they strangely reminded me of my squeaky rubber chicken with their undulating movements.

Our peaceful Pomeranian Park soon filled with the curious snouts of my fellow compatriots. Max, the forensic pathfinder, was the first to press his nose against the uninvited spacecraft – “Definitely not a sausage,” he reported. Bella, bless her, tried to engage them in a game of fetch with her Frisbee – to no avail. As for Oscar, he had that wide-eyed look, the kind he’d get before launching into a story of epic proportions.

The creatures floated amongst us, their intentions a mystery wrapped in a celestial enigma. Personally, I yearned for the simple pleasure of gnawing on a carrot stick while the Johnsons wondered about life beyond the stars. Speaking of which, I’d bet all the treats in Shepherd’s Shawarma that my reaction to the interlopers was magnitudes more composed than when I’d confronted that lemon.

Negotiations ensued, led by Oscar’s dulcet barks. I mean, if anyone could talk sense to aliens, it’d be a Boxer with the voice of a seasoned poet. “We come bearing tales, not teeth!” he proclaimed, which, considering our fangs, was quite the peaceful overture.

As it turned out, our visitors were peaceable travelers, simply lost on their way to Sirius A. It’s a common mistake – take a left at the Milky Way when you should have veered right. We’ve all been there, I’m sure.

Thus, we escorted them to Rottweiler’s Ribs for a light snack (E.T.’s enjoy jerky too, as we discovered) and after a luxurious walk with—as advertised—a “Happy Hound” guide, we aimed their ship in the right direction.

And just like that, the invasion concluded not with a snarl, but a handshake – or, in our case, a congenial sniff and a playful bow. The aliens zipped away into the cosmos, leaving only a night sky that seemed just a bit emptier.

Back at home, tails wagging, we reminisced about our sci-fi encounter that’d have our humans questioning the presence of tennis ball-sized crop circles on their lawn come morning. It’s just another night in Pawsburgh – the town that can make a homesick alien feel like they’ve found their second planet.

The End.

Share This Story: