Hey Dad,

Just wrapped up a caper where I got sweet revenge on Chuck for stealing my blue ball—the pride of Pawsburgh! Managed to outwit him with a peanut butter-bacon burrito bait & retrieved my treasure (even braved a puddle!) All’s well that ends well; we ended with peace offerings and wagging tails. These dog days are never dull!

Tail wags and woofs,
Trixie 🐾🏆💧

Listen to the story here

Alright, listen up, party animals—my name is Trixie, and let me tell you about that one time in Pawsburgh when revenge was more satisfying than finding a forgotten chicken bite under the couch cushion. It all started on an otherwise ordinary Tuesday when I had mapped out an intricate plan to visit my beloved Chewhound’s Chophouse after a breezy car ride to Eskimo Estuary with my pals, Sally and Bodhi.

But that day, my heart sank lower than a dachshund’s belly. As we made our way down Sapphire Schnauzer Street, I felt the uncomfortable squish of betrayal under my paw. My blue rubber ball, my pride and joy, decorated with teeth marks like a warrior’s scars, was no more. In its place was a cheap imitation, devoid of the peculiar bounce that puzzled and pleased me so! Sal and Bodhi wagged their tails sympathetically, but I was in no mood for condolences—I would have my vengeance.

We paced around Pawsitively Purrfect Pet Store, sniffing out clues. The scent was unmistakable—Chuck, that sly Beagle from Pomeranian Park, had nabbed my prized possession under the guise of a belly rub backscratcher!

I plotted as only a bulldog scorned could. My strategy? Operation Droolworthy Distraction. I’d seen Chuck drooling like a teething puppy at the sight of Whippet Wraps’ latest culinary delight – a peanut butter and bacon burrito that was all the woof. The trap was set; Sally was to charm him with her Jack Russell twinkle, Bodhi would snag the ball back, and I would watch it all go down from behind a hydrangea at Paw-lickin’ Pancakes.

Sal, bless her overactive heart, yapped about a “once in a Pawsburgh” free burrito giveaway. Chuck’s floppy ears perked up as he trotted right to where Bodhi lay in wait, disguised as a casually discarded newspaper.

The exchange was smoother than a Greyhound’s gallop. Chuck dashed, Bodhi snatched, and I, Trixie, executed a victory dance as elaborate as the Queen’s procession at the Barking Boutique sale. But our triumph was short-lived. Like any plot worthy of a doggy-drama, a twist was imminent—the ball plopped into a tiny puddle, and I, ball-obsessed but water averse, hesitated. Oh, the canine conundrum!

My hesitation was as brief as a Chihuahua’s patience. With the courage of an underdog in the finals of the Ultimate Paws Wrestling Championship, I pounced. My motto morphed into “the ball’s well that ends well.” I emerged, not just victorious, but sopping wet, with a wet dog odor potent enough to clear out The Pawfect Training Center.

That evening, as the town of Pawsburgh settled into a contented silence and the moon paw-printed the night sky, I recounted the tale to Sal and Bodhi, our sides touching in warmth and fellowship. Chuck, that cunning little strip of a Beagle, skulked by with a sheepish whisker-twitch. Our eyes met, and I nudged the imitation ball towards him with a nod—a peace offering from a bulldog who knew the real victory wasn’t in the revenge, but in the frantic, frenzied fun of the chase.

I, Trixie, am no stranger to the spotlight in the fabled dog town of Pawsburgh – a car-loving, chicken bite-savoring, water-avoiding pup with a tale taller than the biggest Saint Bernard and more twisty than the curliest Poodle’s ‘do. A good story, like a good nap, is irresistible indeed. And just between us, a little bit of mischief is the secret ingredient for the perfect dog’s life, don’t you think?

The End.