Yo! It’s your main mutt, Blue. Just nailed the role as Pawsburgh’s Pet Bachelor – doling out roses and searching for true tail-wagging love amongst a pack of poised pups. Plot twist: found out it’s less about the romance, more about a buddy to share the howl-worthy laughs in our doggy haven. Keep your paws crossed for me. 🐾 Catch ya at the dog park – Blue

Listen to the story here

Ah, Pawsburgh! That magical little swath of paradise nestled betwixt dreams and the wagging tails of us, the canine kind. Just a mere skip and a gambol from the sleepy eyes of our unwitting human companions, we slip surreptitiously into our own wondrous world where the unwritten law is to have all the fun that doggedly can be had.

Mighty Malamute Mountain presides over the rolling green, whilst Basenji Bay laps at sands as golden as the crisp crust on Marjorie’s fabled loaves. Harrier Harbor, a-bustle with salty sea dogs and tales taller than the mast of the grandest ship, calls out to the daring and the droll alike.

I, Blue, am perhaps the most sought-after bachelor in all of Pawsburgh, even if I do say so myself – and I do say it with a grin wide as the Cheshire Cat’s, if he were permitted in these parts. Ahem, as I was telling; I, Blue, have in my pocket a black spot or two that could turn any four-legged lassie’s head. No wonder the producers of ‘The Pet Bachelor’ did pick me for this season’s courtin’ extravaganza.

Every evening, post-Margie’s bedtime, I make my way to our beloved park square, twirling my curly tail and plotting the amusements of the night. What a ripe evening it was when the premiere of ‘The Pet Bachelor’ was due! The boutiques like Canine Couture Clothing had sewn up their finest duds for the occasion, and I was decked in a bowtie so jaunty it could jig.

My friends, dear Sasha, Toby, and Luna, were all aflutter, for they’d seen the preparations at The Fetching Feline (a misnomer, really, for there ain’t a cat in sight). They’d say, “Blue, you dog! You’ll be the bow-wow of bachelorhood!” And roused by their mirth, my curly tail would twitch like a conductor’s baton eager for the symphony’s start.

But amongst the kebabs from Canine Kabobs and Sniffer’s Sandwiches, amidst the heady gossip of who’d get my first rose (or should I say, bone?), a whisper of unease blew through me like a draft in old Margie’s kitchen. What if amid all this courting, and the wagging tails and fluttering lashes of my lovely suitresses, I couldn’t sniff out love from infatuation? The question tied my stomach in knots tighter than the knots on Mr. Acorn.

Ah, Mr. Acorn, what wisdom do you hold in your raggedy paws? I mused, watching one eager candidate after another approach as I stood upon a platform made of cobbled stones and whispered promises. They came tentatively, a cocked head here, a hopeful tail there. The Dachshunds with their ears dragging gracefully like a lady’s gown, the Boxers puffing up bravely, eyes a-spark with desire for adventure!

Our encounters, judged by a panel of discerning elder hounds (Sasha among them, her spectacles perched thoughtfully upon her snout), were true merriment. One doggie dame even offered me a lemon-scented kerchief, to which I recoiled – ah, the tales my nostrils could tell of that wicked citrus!

At last, under a sky flushed with stars like the twinkle of Marjorie’s eye, I granted my first precious rose. Luna, whose song of the heart soothed mine, received it with a gaze soft as an afternoon nap in the sun. A collective awe rolled through the crowd and echoed beyond the harbor.

And as the evening drew nigh – with fireworks blooming above Malamute Mountain like dandelions scattering wishes – I knew that true companionship, the sort that kindles warmth during cold, ember-whispering nights, wasn’t something to be won. It was to be found often where least expected, hidden beneath the laughter and the racing pulse of Pawsburgh’s unquenchable zest.

For I, Blue, with my comical mug and tale-twitching glee, realized ’twas not a dame I sought, but rather, a kindred spirit to share in the ceaseless serenade of this place we pups call Home.

The End.