Hey Sarah,

Your faithful tail-wagger Ollie here, checking in! Spent the day as Pawsburgh’s unofficial mayor, spreading cheer like it’s kibble at dinner time. Bacon scent hugs at the diner, fetch in Cocker Courtyard, and ended under a sky painted with our adventures. Missed you, can’t wait to snuggle and share tales of the day. 😊🐾

Paws and kisses,
Ollie

Listen to the story here

In Pawsburgh, where dreams nap in every bed and wag in every tail, I awoke to the soft snuffling of my friend Max searching for his glasses under the couch. A glance out the window, painted with the early morning’s dew, and I could see the almost cartoonish curvature of Malamute Mountain silhouetted against a cotton candy sky.

With a stretch as long as a summer day, I bounded out of the bed, my black coat shimmering even in the gentle light, the white crescent moon on my chest a beacon of whimsy. The day promised adventures as full and thrilling as a bowl of chicken and carrots, minus the citrus, of course. One whiff of that and I’d rather kiss a cat – I jest!

I trotted past Max, offering him a good-morning nuzzle that said, “Old bean, you really should tape those spectacles to your snout.” I received a grumble as heartwarming as a worn-in chew toy in return. Off to the Doggie Diner, where bacon scents hug your snout like an old friend, and the clinking of bowls is better than any symphony.

Along the way, there was Bella, that merry dame, her barks dancing like sunlight on a moving creek, outside the Pampered Pooch Salon. Her eyes on the lookout for Alfie’s inevitable jests – a splash from a puddle or a rubber duck mysteriously positioned to squeak under an unsuspecting paw.

“Good morning, my orchestras of symphonic joy,” I announced as we congregated outside Tail-Twitching Treats. We’d become such fixtures in this neighborhood; a band of merrymakers and unofficial greeters. Our laughter was infectious as the children who loved us; our camaraderie sincere as the warm beds we left each day.

The sun climbed higher, an audience of one to our frolics at Cocker Courtyard, where games of fetch with my favorite squeaky duck drew more anticipation than the final batch of biscuits at Snout Snacks. Faces new and old joined, tales of nightly escapades shared like dessert, sweet and always leaving one wanting more.

In Pawsburgh, lifetimes happen between the rise and fall of a ball, joy measured in the distance of a good run; we were living the stuff of legend, myths that would outlast even the most persistent chewer. Every new face was a new story, an addition to our family album that defied pages and settled for the heart.

At dusk, with muscles singing a tune of satisfied exhaustion, we gathered at Papillon Promenade, the sky now aflame with the colors of homecoming. Alfie’s eyes twinkled with the promise of pranks for tomorrow, while Bella’s soft snores spoke volumes of contentment. Old Max, with his now-found spectacles, counted us like stars, his voice whispering histories for future tails to wag to.

Bidding them goodnight, I made the moonlit ascent back to my red-bricked abode, where the lilting scent of ivy bid me welcome. Inside, Sarah’s absence was a quiet melody, a promise of an embrace to come. I’d tell her of the day’s chronicles, and she’d listen, eyes glittering like rain-kissed sunsets.

In Pawsburgh, every story was a shared dream, every laugh a note in our song of belonging. Tomorrow promised more tales, and the moon seemed to wink – or perhaps that was just my fanciful imagination. And like every night, in a bed too big for one but just right for dreams, I nestled down, knowing that in this magical town, my heart was never alone.

The End.