Yo! 🐾 Mishka the Time-Trotting Tail-Wagger here. Just had the wildest romp through old Pawsburgh via a magical kennel! 🌀✨ Learned our everyday yaps and sniffs are what truly make our stories legendary. Catch you at Collie’s for a celebratory chicken chow-down! 🍗 🐶💖 #TimeBarkinBoothAdventure

Paws and reflect,
Mishka 🐕👑

Listen to the story here

“Even in Pawsburgh, a place where every tail’s a telltale and every bark’s a ballad, this adventure was something else. It’s Mishka here, your royal canine companion with a tale that’ll have you chasing your own tail in intrigue.

It was an ordinary Tuesday—or so I thought—as I dawdled along the Dalmatian Docks, pondering over my delicate white coat’s puzzling pawprints of tan and black. Today, however, I harbored the nagging sense that my mellow routine at Collie’s Cuisine would be spectacularly seasoned with the unexpected.

My suspicions were confirmed when Rosco, the rascally terrier mix, bounded up to me, a glint of conspiracy in his eyes. “Mishka, ever wanted to sniff the history of Pawsburgh, tail-first?” he yapped.

“Can’t say it’s been top of my chew list, Rosco,” I admitted, my thoughts trailing off to my beloved squeaky hedgehog toy awaiting my return.

“Trust me, you’ll want to fetch this opportunity,” Rosco winked. Before I could retort, he nudged me towards The Pooch Playhouse. Inside, amidst the usual clutter of chew toys and leashes, stood a peculiar kennel, antiquated, with a swirling pattern on the door that made my eyes cross and my nose twitch.

Uncertain, yet undeniably intrigued, I pawed closer. “What’s this old bone?” I queried, polite yet pointedly.

“The Time-Barking Booth,” Rosco announced with the flourish of a show dog. “You saunter in, dream of an era—and poof! You’re there—lickety-split!”

The prospect of time travel was as unsettling as the idea of a cat running Pawsburgh, but curiosity got the better of me. Besides, it was a chance to be a hound not just in Pawsburgh but in all barks of life. Throwing caution to the wind like a Frisbee on a beach day, I trotted in.

The world blinked. When my eyes settled, I was no longer in Pawsburgh. I was at Pointer Pier, but not the one I knew. This was the Pawsburgh of yesteryear, the boards beneath my paws were new, and the air smelled of fish and old-world adventure.

An old lab, his fur like weathered parchment, approached. “Mishka,” he said, his voice gravely with age. “You must be from the future. I’ve been expecting you.”

“Who are you?” I asked, my voice edged with awe. In all my years in Pawsburgh, I’d never encountered him.

“I’m the Keeper of Time, the one who oversees the Time-Barking Booth. I know about your love for savory chicken, your aversion to citrus. I even know about your little hedgehog toy,” he said knowingly. “But more than that, I know why you’re here.”

I was spellbound. Of course, I hadn’t a clue why I was there, and I said as much.

“You’re here to learn that every moment in Pawsburgh is precious,” said the Keeper. “Every escapade a memory, every yip and bark a symphony of now.”

My heart leapt like a puppy at the park. He was right. Here, in the past, I saw Pawsburgh not just as a place, but a tapestry of time—a story I was part of.

Just like that, the world blinked again and I was back at The Pooch Playhouse, Rosco smirking next to the kennel. “Well, did you fetch what you went for, Mishka?”

“I did,” I replied with a knowing gaze. “And a lot of it was here all along.”

Walking back to Collie’s Cuisine, the savory smell of chicken greeting my nostrils, I knew that my tale in Pawsburgh, both past and present, was far from over. In this town, every sniff and every woof wasn’t just part of my story, but a patch in the grand quilt of canine kinship.”

The End.