Hey human!

Today in Pawsburg, I lived up to my title as “Curator of Curiosities” & future legend. Unearthed a glowing orb on Saluki Sands after outsmarting morning myths with my crew. But honest truth? The scent of smoked salmon unearthed me! Off to face my ultimate quest – dinner!

Catch you on the scent trail,
Ollie 🐾✨

Listen to the story here

I awoke to the aroma of a distant world, the siren scent of smoked salmon calling from some adventure-laden horizon. Stretching in the sunlit sanctuary beneath Mrs. Appleton’s old oak, I contemplated the day’s exploits in vibrant Pawsburg. By no means a coincidental occurrence, for where there is smoked salmon, there can be only one dog. And that, of course, is I, Ollie.

Tossing aside the remnants of dreams steeped in savory delight, I nudged my soccer ball with a practiced snout. Even within the confines of daydreams, my ball never strayed far. It was, after all, the trusty steed upon which I rode into countless escapades amongst friend and fable.

“Morning, Ollie!” barked Max with custom exuberance, his short Terrier legs a blur across the misty dew of Rottweiler Ridge. Sophie glided by his side, the essence of German Shepherd elegance, tail swishing like a noble banner in the wind.

Max was already halfway through a tale—well, more of a yarn really—about a hardware heist gone hilariously awry at The Howling Husky. “And then the spanner just…vanished!” he yipped, tripping over invisible inconveniences. I rolled my eyes, the global gesture of indulgent disbelief.

Yet today, we had loftier destinations: Saluki Sands and the mythical treasures rumored to dwell beneath. We traversed the city with purposeful pounce; every dog we passed seemed to understand that we were bound for the extraordinary. Even the sleepy Beagle behind the counter at Beagle Bagels tilted his head in an encouraging nod as I trotted by.

The path to Saluki Sands was a familiar one, winding past Setter’s Steakhouse, which I noted with a slathering of saliva, would make a splendid spot for a post-adventure celebratory bite. The valley gradually shifted; its grounds turned to glinting granules, every bit of sand shimmering with the promise of hidden narratives.

As the chosen Lab of prophecy, my black coat absorbing the sunlight like a fuzzy black hole, I closed my eyes and began to dig. My paws were instruments of discovery, guided by the silent whispers of Pawsburg’s secret enchantments.

“Ollie! You’ve found something!” Sophie barked, her eyes reflecting a curious luminosity emanating from the pit I’d excavated.

Indeed, nestled within a clump of cooler sand was an orb, pellucid and mesmerizing. It glowed with a soft blue hue, resonant with the mystique of a world where dogs ruled and the fantastical was mundane. I nudged it free with a fervent nose-bop, and it floated effortlessly mid-air, a silent orb of untold power—or a very cleverly crafted bouncy ball, I couldn’t be sure.

My friends and I gasped in amazement, but my thoughts were inevitably drawn elsewhere as the orb’s glow intensified. It was the glow of potential, the gleam of adventure—and wait, was that a hint of smoke wafting from Vizsla Valley? My ever-reliable nose twitched; smoked salmon was nearby!

In a blink, the fantasy faded, the dangers and beauties of magic tucked neatly into the folds of reality. A cool Pawsburg breeze teased my fur, and with a content wag of my tail, I set the orb down. To understand the rules of magic is to know when dinner is imminent.

“Come on, friends!” I woofed triumphantly, “There’s salmon on the wind and stories to be dined on!” And with that, we galloped off towards the valley.

In this life of legendary days and salmon-scented nights, one black Labrador could traverse realms unseen, all before Mrs. Appleton opened the sturdy door to call, “Here, Ollie!”

The End.