Hey hooman🐾! In case you’ve missed the howling updates: I’m not just a bulldog, I’m shaping up to be the legendary Gracie ‘The Dragon’ of Pawsburg! 🐉 I’ve been sniffing out wisdom down at the bay, leading the campaign for Penelope’s mayoral paw-suit, and even giving a go at bulldogging beyond the usual at The Groom Room. Every step I take is a step toward greatness, in between delicious peanut butter parfaits, of course! Naptime now, because even legends need their beauty sleep. Woofs and wags, Gracie 🐶💤

Listen to the story here

You know that moment when you wake up and the world is still slumbering, a sliver of moon whispering goodbyes to the stars? That’s my cue, Gracie the Old English Bulldog, to shake off the night and step out into the enchantment that is Pawsburg.

So let me take you through an utterly transformative Tuesday, because when you’re canine, Tuesdays can be as thrilling as a weekend—if you play your paws right.

As dawn’s pink fingers caressed the horizon, I made my waddling way down to Blue Basenji Bay. The water greeted me with a ballet of ripples, each wave nodding at my arrival. I plopped my behind down, my stuffed dragon toy beside me, and cast a contemplative stare across the water. “Gracie girl,” I muttered to myself, channeling my inner philosopher, “every day’s a chance to be a little less bulldog and a little more, well, dragon.”

No sooner had I shared this witty insight with the universe than Boomer bounded up to me, panting with news that had his tail spinning like a doggy windmill. “Gracie! You won’t believe it. Penelope has decided to run for Mayor of Pawsburg!”

I blinked. Penelope? Mayor of this motley crew of mutts and purebreds? My heart warmed to the idea like it warmed to the underside of a belly scratch—slowly, then all at once.

The three of us made our way toward Terrier Town, the political heart of Pawsburg, and I couldn’t help but let my thoughts roam. We each had our strengths in this canine community: Boomer was the energy, Penelope the wisdom, but me? I was the glue, the pupper who held us together. I wasn’t just a bulldog; I was a bulwark of loyalty and affection.

At Bark Buffet, as I snuffled down my peanut butter parfait (with a nose upturned in disdain at a rogue slice of citrus), I watched Penelope work the crowd with kindness that would make any tail wag. And it was there, between bites and belly rubs, that I really saw my friends. They were more than Boomer’s frenzied chases and Penelope’s serene wisdom—they were growing, evolving, just like me.

Post-breakfast, my stuffed dragon and I had a little heart-to-heart at The Groom Room. I mean, who said old dogs can’t learn new tricks? The mirror reflected a doggess determined to be more than her waddle and her wrinkles. I’d be Penelope’s campaign manager, I decided, because what’s growth if not taking on something bigger than yourself?

By the time we hit Canine Couture Clothing, where I was weighing the pros and cons of a ‘Vote for Penelope’ bandana, it struck me—the change wasn’t just around me, it was in me. Each day in Pawsburg, I left pawprints on the paths of betterment, because every dog had its day, and every day was a chance to be extraordinary.

As the sun dipped low and I retraced my steps back home, my dragon under my arm and heart bursting with the tales of the day, I realized something profound: change isn’t about one big moment. It’s the little things—the morning reflections, the decisions over parfait, the camaraderie-fueled endeavors.

I arrived back at my human’s abode, her name now a hushed lullaby as I settled down for a well-earned nap. A bulldog I may be, but in Pawsburg, I was becoming legend—one peanut butter parfait and political campaign at a time.

The End.