Hey fam! 🐾

Just a quick update – I’m living quite the tail in Pawsburgh! 🌙✨ I’ve been Sherlock Bones, unearthing magical mysteries and flirting with Maximus, the Husky with ice-blue eyes. Our yaps are filled with ghostly love stories and the promise of adventure at the turn of every cobbled corner. We’re off to a bookstore where the tales might just pet us back… I think I’ve found my pawfect match in a world with more spirits than squirrels. Wish you could see me wag! 📚💖

Tail wags and doggy kisses,
Rosie 🐕💋

Listen to the story here

As twilight kissed the curtain of night, the enchanting town of Pawsburgh came alive under the luminous gaze of a crescent moon. Here I am, Rosie, with my white-tipped paws tiptoeing through the mystical threshold of Shiba Inlet, a gateway between the humdrum of canine day-to-day and the fervor of the secret world that is Pawsburgh.

With a lilt in my step, I find the mosaic of cobbled streets leading me to a place far from the reach of monstrous cleaning contraptions—a haven where my tail could sketch circles of delight unrestricted. The air was perfumed with scents from Canine Kabobs, tempting my taste buds, my desires wagging within me like my ever-joyous appendage.

Ahead, I glimpsed the silhouette of Maximus, the Husky with the ice-blue eyes like chips of the profoundest celestial bodies, looming by the Jade Jack Russell Junction. Ah, the paranormal romance of it! Normality shed its skin at Pawsburgh’s door, where we, the canines, spun tales not just of fetching and rolling but also of ghostly whispers and love that crossed the ethereal divide.

“Evening, Rosie,” Maximus’s baritone fluttered like a spirit in the night, unmooring my heart from its bodily chamber with the ease that only he could muster.

“The stars gleaming bright for you tonight, Max?” I retorted, the Sorkin-esque wit my human adored as much as our cuddle sessions on lazy Sunday afternoons. It came naturally, the back-and-forth dance of dialogue, for I, too, am a lover of stories, a craft honed in the bosom of my human’s gentle laughter.

“Only when reflected in your eyes,” he quipped, and I chuckled, the sound a melody only the moon and Maximus would witness.

Guiding me to the Hound’s Hotdogs, Maximus’s tales weaved a tapestry of an afterworld. There, phantoms spun dreams in slumbering minds, like our very own Pawsburgh knitted fantasies for us.

“I heard about the phantom greyhound at the Woof and Whisker Wellness Center,” I murmured. “They say she heals hearts with a single nuzzle, that she’s a spark of the other side.”

“A spark indeed,” Maximus mused, his voice lowering, laced with a hush of respect. “Perhaps love transcends even the boundaries of the spectral and the solid.”

A blush of warmth spread under my fur, a sensation I had come to associate with Maximus and only Maximus. Our conversation was fluid, a wordy waltz, playful and profound. As we sat to eat—him with his signature beef sausage and I with a chicken kabob—my heart thrummed like the patter of eager paws upon soft earth.

“Have you ever been to The Wagging Tail Bookstore at sunset?” I inquired, lashes fluttering coyly.

“The one that glows as if pages turn themselves?” he replied, with a knowing smile.

“Take me there, Maximus. Let’s be part of a story where shadow and light court each other, where the whisper of the turning page might just be a ghost or a prelude to a snout-nuzzle.”

In Pawsburgh, the absurd cavorted with the divine, the mundane fraternized with the magical. And as Maximus and I tread softly under the irradiances of stars and street lamps, our shadows entangled upon the walls of Pawsburgh, I knew that in this world or any other, our romance was a tale no less extraordinary than our own existence—a symphony in the night with a dog named Rosie playing the lead melody.

The End.