Hey Mom,

Had a wild day being the unofficial ambassador for Earth in a K9 close encounter of the third kind – tail wags with alien dogs at Mastiff Meadows. There were space toys and cosmic nosh. Unsure if intergalactic exchange or discreet invasion. Stay tuned for more adventures from your space-faring pooch, Sofichi 🐾✨

Sophia

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Ever had one of those days where everything’s just a skosh off-kilter? Like, you wake up in your usual doggy bed, but there’s a vibe in the air that suggests maybe you shouldn’t have had that last piece of chicken before snoozing. Well, strap in, because that was my day.

So, here I am, Sophia. You know me. “Sophia’s Tale,” as the gossips down at The Wagging Tail Bookstore like to call me when they think I’m not eavesdropping with my super canine hearing. Listen, it’s not eavesdropping if the information finds its way to your ears unsolicited, am I right? Anyway, as usual, I’ve got this itch to wander off to Pawsburgh, and off I go because YOLO—or whatever humans are saying these days.

Pointer Pier is usually where I’m at. But today, not in the mood. The park? Please, as thrilling as watching paint dry. And the beach? The only waves I wanna catch today are gossip waves about the wacky stuff happening at Mastiff Meadows. I trot over there, leash-less and fancy-free, stuffed frog in mouth, because trophies.

What I didn’t expect was—to put it mildly—an alien dog invasion? Yeah, like extraterrestrial doggy dudes literally beaming down. Picture it: a scene straight out of My Favorite Martian, except obviously way cuter because we’re all dogs here. I’m intrigued but also, like, “Soph, maybe you should’ve consulted your horoscope or something today.”

The extraterrestrial pooches don’t look much different from us, except they’re kind of… glowy? And maybe their tails do this funky swirling light-show thing. Whatever, not judging. But they’re definitely eyeing up Kelpie Keys like it’s prime real estate, and who can blame them? That place is pawsitively luxurious.

I’m mulling over if I should play bark-bassador for Earth or just go find a taco, when Leia bounds up to me, her artistic stripe practically sparkling with nervous excitement. “Soph! Did you see the light show? I was doing a paint paw-trait by Chowhound’s Chophouse when—”

“Yeah, honey,” I interrupt. Leia’s dear, but she’s young—you know how chatty puppies can be. “I saw the alien welcome committee. And I’m trying to decide if we should be worried or if they’re just intergalactic tourists.”

Just then, Primrose trots up, nonchalant as you please, because she’s a cat and cats have perfected the artistry of not giving a darn. “Sophia, they’re just exploring,” she purrs, her green eyes all mysterious. Trust me, nothing phases her.

“Exploring or invading?” I counter, because there’s nothing like a little existential drama to spice up your Wednesday.

Primrose flicks her tail in that way she does when she’s about to drop wisdom. “Aren’t they the same thing? It’s all about perspective.” Which, like, thanks, Socrates.

Now, normally I’d be a tad skeptical of interstellar canines wanting to just hang, but to my surprise, they bring out these unearthly chew toys and bone-shaped spacecraft (spacescraft? Spacecrafts?), and the dogs of Pawsburgh are wagging tails like it’s going out of style. I mean, I’m open-minded and stuff, but what’s the angle here?

I decide, what the heck, let’s not judge an invading book by its cover and trot over. I mean, if aliens can make my Pawsburgh pals this happy, who am I to yuck their yum? So, I’m sniffing out the head honcho, making sure my frog is still secure, because priorities, when he—it?—offers me what looks like a space chicken leg.

Okay, so, maybe this invasion’s got culinary perks.

All in all, it’s shaping up to be a mix-in-your-kibble kind of day. So, while the extraterrestrial tail-waggers seem hospitable enough (I mean, they haven’t tried vaporizing The Pawsome Pet Pharmacy yet), I’m still keeping one eye open, because you never know when you’ll need to stage a heroic defense of your favorite taco joint.

Anyway, gotta dash. I just spotted a noodle in the alien’s picnic spread and it’s got my name written all over it. Literally, I think. These guys are good.

The End.