Hey hooman, just a quick paw-dropped note from your top dog, Newt. Last night was a HOWL. Went philosopher-mode with Max & Bella at Pawsburgh, then turned barks into deeds at the Woof and Whisker charity shindig. Turns out, being a Pawsburgh VIP gives my furry charisma an extra shine. Dreams of the willow and rubber chicken await. Night adventures make for brighter day duties. 🐾 #NewttheBrindleBeacon

Listen to the story here

Ah, Pawsburgh. A secret only the most charming of canines can share. Once the O’Reillys’ heads hit their pillows, my nightly escapade to the land of talking tails and four-legged tales begins. The moon is my signal; the stars, my guides. They twinkle in on the game, winking knowingly as I saunter along the shadows to the mythical Vizsla Valley.

Here’s a little known fact: there’s a peculiar charm about the place when you’re a brindle-coat dog like me, with a sheen that’s reminiscent of the embers in the O’Reillys’ Sunday barbecue. Even in the fantastical Pawsburgh, I stand out – not that a dash of vanity does any harm. But let’s not tarry too long on personal attributes.

One recent Pawsburgh eve, I felt the compelling urge to do more than just frolic under the opalescent sky. You see, there are these moments when life – or the afterlife, for that matter – flickers like my coat in the sunlight and whispers, “Be more than just a good dog, Newt. Be the best.”

I pondered this turning canine philosophy over with my good mates, Max and Bella, as we met at the Pearl Papillon Promenade, which, by the way, is absolutely the place to see and be seen for doggy philosophers such as us.

“No more chicken-chasing then?” Max inquired, with a lift of his bushy golden brow.

Bella scoffed, a glimmer of moonlight in her determined little eyes, “Stuff and nonsense! If you’re that flame dancing in the daylight, then let’s turn it up a notch, Newt!”

Their words jogged something within me. So, fueled by desires of canine virtue, we set forth to Pup’s Parfait to discuss our contribution to the Pawsburgh dogmunity – yes, a bit of clever wordplay!

While our huddles were indeed profound under the hanging lights at Pup’s Parfait, it became clear that simply waxing poetic on how to be our better selves wasn’t enough. We needed action. And wouldn’t you know, the Woof and Whisker Wellness Center was orchestrating a fundraiser for underprivileged pups.

With our volunteering leashes on, we bounded toward charitable adventure, past Canine Couture Clothing where the fashion-forward dogs of Pawsburgh strut their stuff. I must admit, the reflections in the store windows did catch my eye. Hashtags #Humblenewt were positively unnecessary.

Bella took charge, her tiny frame overshadowed only by her expansive spirit. As we helped organize the event, the realization pawed at me – giving back added an extra sheen to my coat, outshining even the O’Reillys’ backyard paradise.

By the apex of the night – the fundraiser in full swing – my pals and I had become quite the ambassadors of goodwill, wagging a more excellent tale than ever before. My thoughts returned to Earth, to young Sam and his ever-squeaking rubber chicken, my place under the willow… and the aspirations budding there, much like a new shoot in the O’Reillys’ garden.

The journey back from Pawsburgh that night felt different. There was a lighter spring in my step, a more rhythmic wag to my tail.

And as morning curled around Earth’s edge, with the O’Reillys none the wiser, I nestled into my bed, my thoughts on the toy that would, come sunrise, squawk once more beneath the weeping willow. Yet in my dreams, I stood a little taller among the fantastical realms of canine kindred, among friends and future friends, all dogs in pursuit of something grand… in the delightful dance that is Pawsburgh.

And so, under my wise, furrowed brow, there flickered not just a flame, but the glow of a goodness that transcended realms, a best self not bound to one world, but belonging to both.

The End.