Hey Mom,

Had another wild night in Pawsburgh—turns out I’m the unofficial guardian against shadowy fiends when the sun goes down (who would’ve thought?). Faced off with some spooky spectral critters and saved the town with nothing but my trusty bone and Sid Sloth for courage. Everything’s chill now, but let’s just say the vacuum’s the least of my worries these days. Millie: 1, Nightmares: 0.

Stay safe and give Scruffy a pat for me!

Hugs and tail wags,
Millie

Listen to the story here

Well now, ain’t no yarn spun under the ol’ sycamore tree worth a penny if it ain’t got that chill to make a hound’s fur stand endwise. Heed this tale, and tread lightly, ’cause what walks in Pawsburgh under the moon’s pale gaze ain’t for the faint of heart.

You recall the din of that mechanical beast, that cursed vacuum? Many a day, it’s sent me scramblin’ for shelter, I tell ya. But ’twas on such a day that Pawsburgh, that normally jolly ol’ place, harbored shadows more sinister than any vacuum’s growl.

I’d spent most the day with Sid Sloth and my squeaky ball, content as a pup with two tails. But with night’s approach, the house grew too quiet, and somethin’ fierce stirred in me bones – the call of Pawsburgh. ‘Twas time for Millie, the Duchess of the Meadows, to see her loyal subjects.

So I snuck through the veil ‘twixt here and there, winding up at the Pearl Papillon Promenade, but lo and behold, it was deserted. Nary a soul in sight, just that lonesome wind dancin’ round like a lost specter. Somethin’ wasn’t right; the air hung thick with a scent most foul, not of chicken – my usual fancy – but of dread.

Venturing forth, every step heavy as if the very earth resisted, I made for Cocker Courtyard. A glimpse of movement caught me eye – a shadow slinkin’ ‘longside the buildings. Had to be a friend, right? But no bark greeted me, just a murmuring, like a ghostly whisper through the trees. The fur ‘pon me back stood tall as Pikes Peak, and I tell ya, my heart pounded fierce as a rabbit in a coop of hounds.

I plucked up courage and barked, “Who’s there? Show yourself!” But only silence bit back. I circled to Hound’s Hotdogs, thinkin’ maybe an ol’ bite would soothe the nerves. But the shutters were banged up somethin’ fierce. The smell of charred meat hung heavy, and not the kind greeted with waggin’ tails.

‘Twas only at Bulldog’s BBQ where I saw ’em – the Other Ones. Creatures most unnatural, with glimmerin’ eyes and wispy tails, lookin’ more like shadows stolen from nightmares. They didn’t reckon on me; they were fixin’ on somethin’ bigger. And there it was, that eerie light emanatin’ from Pooch’s Pizzeria, like a bonfire of souls.

With a gulp and a prayer to old Saint Bernard, I crept closer. Amidst them Other Ones, a figure loomed large, shrouded in a veil of mist, drawlin’ incantations that curdled the blood.

Seems like the Pawsburg Pact had been crossed, and now the Witching Hour was upon us, where ghouls sought revenge on the livin’ for sins of old. I may be a simple dog, but savin’ me friends – that’s a cause worth bitin’ for.

Grasped tight a bone left near the fountain; ’twas my sword, my talisman, my hope. I darted like lightnin’, Sid Sloth clutched in mouth, for bravery comes in many forms. Them Other Ones skittered and wailed as I leaped, thrashin’ that bone ‘gainst the ground, erasin’ the symbols that gave ’em passage.

The figure turned, hissed in anger, but ’twas too late. With one last squeak of me ball, the light shattered, sendin’ the shadows back into whatever pit they crawled from.

Come dawn, Pawsburgh was back to its merry self, though none recalled the events ‘cept me. But now y’all know, Millie ain’t just charm and chicken – I’m the keeper of peace ‘gainst forces dark and dire.

And if you pass through Pawsburgh, look sharp, for the horrors of that night still whisper, waitin’ for another soul brave enough to hear their tales.

The End.

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