Hey Mom,

Guess who became the reluctant heroine in a doggone ghostly adventure? Strolled through Pawsburgh to find it eerily silent, stumbled upon Bulldog’s BBQ closure (tragic!), and got surrounded by the Spooky Spectral Hounds in a foggy Opal Park! Felt like a furry protagonist in a horror flick. Bravery (or was it cluelessness?) kept my tail wagging. Wish you could’ve seen me stand up to them! More details when I see you.

Stay pawsome,
Winnie the Moo 🐾✨

Listen to the story here

I should have known that something was awry in Pawsburgh that peculiarly overcast afternoon. It’s not like I’m averse to a bit of cloud coverage – clouds, after all, resemble enormous blobs of floating mashed potatoes, and who doesn’t fancy the odd daydream about an all-you-can-eat buffet in the sky? But this was different, with a nip in the air that made your whiskers twitch, rather like the sensation you get when you suspect your human has booked that dreaded trip to the vet.

As I trotted across Briard Bridge, my assertive ear picked up the whispers of the wind, speaking of ominous doings. I wasn’t too concerned initially, thinking perhaps it was my brother playing tricks with his squeaky toy just out of view, but the absence of mundane cheer in the usually bustling Amber Akita Alley suggested otherwise. “Rubbish!” I muttered under my breath, a quiver of unease prickling through my sturdy little legs.

Seeking solace, I made for Bulldog’s BBQ, a place that normally smelled like heaven – if heaven were made of delicious smoked treats. To my dismay, its doors creaked with a slow, eerie timbre, harmonizing with a silence that should’ve been filled with the clinking of bowls and the merry yaps of my fellow canines. I had to lean in to discern the growling of empty stomachs from the phantom echoes of a once lively eatery.

With trepidation creeping in, I indulged my curiosity – and against all the instinctual caution barking inside my head – veered toward Opal Pomeranian Park. It was here that the air hung thick with mist, like a big wet blanket thrown over our small corner of the world. The park’s luscious green expanse had turned damp and unusually dark; the trees swayed with a dance macabre, casting twisted shadows – their branches clawing at the fabric of reality like a cat would at your favorite couch.

I was alone, truly alone, something I wouldn’t usually admit to disliking. But as I navigated the sinuous paths, I pined for the cacophonous din of my friends and the security of their jostling, joyous presence. The air pulsated with a soundless anxiety and I began to fancy myself as the heroine in one of those horror stories humans so frequently left onscreen while they busied themselves elsewhere – thoughtless of the education they were providing.

It was in this ambiance of silent terror that they emerged from the mist. The Spectral Hounds, legends spoken of in barely audible whispers for being too chilling even to contemplate. Ethereal and translucent, they encircled me with an elegant menace, their ghostly tails swaying like the pendulums of clocks unwound by time itself. I found it curious how one could be simultaneously bedazzled and petrified, but then, life is nothing if not a series of contradictions.

“Tempting fate, are we, Winnie, The Spotted Charmer?” one spectral dog – a Saluki, by my reckoning – intoned, his voice dripping with a mirth quite unsuitable for the scene.

I straightened up as much as my muscular little legs would allow. “Just taking a stroll, thank you,” I replied, more bravado in my voice than my rapidly beating heart felt. “The park seemed… the place to be, today.”

The hounds laughed, an eerie sound like leaves skittering across a desolate road. The Saluki nodded, “So be it. We enjoy the company of the brave – even if bravery is often merely the result of not fully understanding the situation.”

As the mist thickened and the Spectral Hounds closed in, I wondered if I’d be able to tell my human about this adventure – or if it would become just another one of Pawsburgh’s untold tales. With a gulp, I realized that sometimes, the most frightening horror is the unknown story, lurking just beyond the veil, waiting to be lived.

The End.