Hey fam! 😎🐾 Today’s tail – I mean, tale – has me as the sly sleuth of Pawsburgh. Thwarted a recipe ruffian at the Great Bark Ball (don’t worry, had my hero hair on). Preserved pizza legacy, paraded out with pride & had treats at Corgi’s. Paws up for adventure! 🍕🐶✨ – Phinn

Listen to the story here

I reckon I had not a single notion that my day in Pawsburgh would turn out to be such a knotty affair when I woke up nestled comfortably under my blankets, my heart-patterned coat all but hidden from sight. A blue-nosed Pittie I might be, but this particular morning found me channeling my inner Huckleberry Finn, if there ever was such a spirit in the world of four-legged creatures.

You see, Pawsburgh, that magical town that buzzes with the furtive scamper of paw pads by day, transforms into something quite else by night. Especially when the moon hangs over Spitz Spire like a silver coin tossed skyward and never came down—the perfect setting for a spot of espionage.

Well, it was on a day such as this that I found myself trotting through Quartz Qimmiq Quarter with Bane, my dear ole dad, and Kali, that inexhaustible ball of energy who would chase her own tail if it meant a minute of fun.

We were on our way to Corgi’s Crepes for a sniff and a snack when my ears caught a whisper of a scheme more twisted than the last knot I dug through in grandma’s yarn basket. It came from The Canine Cafe, that quaint establishment known for its beefy brews and hush-hush talks.

“Well, would you listen at that,” I muttered, my curiosity tickling my whiskers.

Bane, with his stoic charm, gave me a look that said clear as spring water, “Mind your snout, Phinn.”

But I couldn’t help myself. An adventure called, and I was not about to turn tail and scuttle home. In we slunk, quieter than the shadow of a cat stalking a canary.

There, beneath the fog of conversations as thick as the froth on the cafe’s cappuccinos, a dastardly plot unfolded. A villainous villain named Von Fluffy, of the highest pedigree and lowest morales, was planning to purloin the secret recipe of the famed Pooch’s Pizzeria! Why, the sheer impudence of it!

It was clear as the jingle of collars that something had to be done. After a brief council of war behind a stack of doggie newspapers at The Doggy Depot, our merry band split to gather intelligence.

I snuck into Beagle Bagels, adopting the suave demeanor of a rogue agent, ears pricked for the slightest crumb of useful gossip. Kali vanished into the bowels of The Howling Husky Hardware Store for gadgets—her tail a tell-tale signal of her excitement.

Through craft and cunning, we uncovered that Von Fluffy intended to make his move during the Great Bark Ball at Pomeranian Park. The secret recipe would be there, coded within a collar of charms worn by the Pizzeria’s sous-chef—a Dachshund with a penchant for sparkly things.

The ball arrived in a woof of glitter and wagging tails. I spied Von Fluffy’s gang by the grand oak, their coats slick with a sheen of scoundrel. With Bane keeping watch, and Kali creating distractions, I moved as silently as the breeze that carries the aroma of grandma’s kitchen.

Success hugged me like my favorite blanket. As I secured the charm collar, exchanging it for a decoy amidst the twirl and excitement, the true recipe remained safe with its rightful owner.

Now, with the charm secured beneath the warm underbelly of my patchwork fur, we sauntered out. Our tails said nothing but casual, yet our hearts thumped a victory march.

As we made our way to celebrate with crepes generously filled with bacon strips, Kali barked with laughter. “We sure showed that cur, didn’t we, Phinn?”

I grinned, my white patches glowing as I replied, “Indeed we did, partner. Indeed we did.”

And that, my friend, is how a blue-nosed Pittie and her valiant companions foiled a plot that would have made Pawsburgh’s pizza history a mere shadow of itself. Ain’t it a fine life for a dog with a thirst for adventure?

The End.