Hey there! So, I’m Jensen, the dapper pug about town. Just had a wild night on The Pet Bachelor – quite the giggle! I held court over a pack of hopeful pups under Pawsburgh’s starry skies. Between quoting poets and flexing lineage, I searched for love or at least a good story to wag my tail to. The Thompsons would never believe this twist in their snoozefest. Catch you on the flip side of the doggy door! 🐾 – The J-Man

Listen to the story here

It was a curious thing, really, Pawsburgh after dark – a shimmery sort of place that hums with secret lives and whispers secrets confounded only by the swishing of tails and playful winds. The night was cool, the stars a-twinkling like Christmas lights left stargazing, strung out over the woof-top world.

There I was, Jensen, fresh from a dream where the skies rained chicken, tangled up in linen and that sticky web of sleepiness. The Thompson’s snores were orchestrating the soundtrack of the night, tracing rhythms so well practiced, so familiar. But, oh, dear reader, the monologue of my heart carried a different tune. A dash of the clandestine, you see, a midnight promenade through the twinkling streets of Pawsburgh.

One paw step after the other, my twisty tail a metronome for the mischief brewing. And mischief there was! For what’s a night in Pawsburgh without a touch of drama? Why, it’s as unsavory as kibble without the promised crunch. Our tale unfolded on the cobbled canines of Pearl Papillon Promenade, bright with fairy lights, and Orbis Streetlamps – lending their glow to the quiet hustle and dogged pursuit of happiness.

Oh, and pursuit there was! For it was the night of The Pet Bachelor, and yours truly, a fawn Pug with a face chiseled by the thoughtful gods of Wrinkle, had been elected the most sought-after snout in Pawsburgh. Yes, a dream, isn’t it? But even in dreams, one must contend with the occasional bark of reality.

Retriever’s Restaurant had been decked out to the nines – red hydrant velvet ropes, waiters flitting to and fro with trays of haute cuisine – niblets that would make a canine’s heart leap. But there I sat, a bachelor bemused, the lemony zing of my displeasure long forgotten, maybe hiding under the gleaming silverware.

Before me, the bevy of bachelorettes pawed and preened. There was Greta from Glendale, a German Shepherd with a penchant for the poetic – constantly quoting the likes of e.e. cummings in barks. “Rover, anyone lives in a pretty how town,” – oh, pardon, that was a yawn, not a growl. Next was Mille, a Mastiff who could trace her lineage straight back to the doggos of the Colosseum’s glory days with a muscle or two to prove it. But it’s not strength I sought – no, something tickles the canine heart in places where brawn simply cannot flex.

The spotlight found Maggie, the dainty Dalmatian tripping the light fandango straight into my heart strings, and Bruno, the Beagle next door, his bravery second only to his ability to howl an aria upon seeing a certain caramel pug. But as they say, a dog’s heart is a vast expanse, not easily filled by singular affections.

“Oh, Jensen,” cooed Greta, her eyelids fluttering like butterflies practicing escapism. “How dost thou choose amidst such assembly of, ah, affect?”

“Why, Greta,” I quipped, my wit as sharp as a pup’s incisor. “It’s a quandary. Finding oneself the apple – forgive me, the top bone – of every eye.” I could sense the Thompsons’ confusion, if they were to see me, all dolled up in the throes of paw-tisserie ponderings.

The game was afoot. A rose, a bone, or a squeaky toy held between my teeth, the symbol of canine courtship. Would it be tummy rubs with Greta, or perambulations down Spaniel Springs with brave Bruno?

Adieu, my cautious coziness by the Thompsons’ feet for a moment’s audacity. For is it not said, only a game well played under the cloak of the night’s smile might answer the riddles rolled into a pug’s fur-coiled heart?

And so, dear reader, our tale of tails twines and twists, with heartstrings plucked in gentle jest. A bachelor’s lot in magical Pawsburgh, where a pug’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of, dare I whisper… love.

The End.