Hey Ellie,

Another epic day in the life of yours truly, Cruella! Conquered Pinscher Plaza, gate-crashed the Spaniel Springs soiree, dodged a spa nightmare, and hit up the Howling Husky for some dog house DIY inspo. Capped it all with philosophy and pup-tales at Fetch! Can’t wait to yip-yap about today’s tail-waggin’ tales. Cuddle up for storytime!

Wags and wits,
Cruella 🐾✨

Listen to the story here

In the dim glow of early Pawsburgh dawn, not a creature stirred—save one. I, Cruella, beheld the world from the balcony, my stubby paws pressed against the cool railing. With a stretch and yawn that set my bat-like ears a-quivering, I contemplated the day’s pursuits; oh, what delightful schemes my doggy heart harbored!

Ellie, poor soul, remained blissfully unaware as I bounded for the door, my escape unnoticed. Our apartment, a place of much sun and warmth, was left behind. Pinscher Plaza burst forth with the hustle and bustle of pups engaging in the frivolity of youth, but it was Spaniel Springs that summoned me with its siren call.

Hastening through the gates, a round of greetings cascaded upon me from my nameless coterie of chums. We romped and frolicked until Harrier Harbor beckoned us for new adventures. We sniffed through its winding streets and arched bridges until, like a beacon, the hotcakes’ aroma guided us to Husky’s Hotcakes—a haven of syrup-laden delights.

The charm of such sustenance did not escape us, for who could resist the allure? But growing up often means growing out of certain youthful indulgences. My cultivated tastes beckoned me towards the sophistication of Chowhound’s Chophouse. The succulent meaty morsels awaited those whose palate had evolved past simple breakfast treats.

Then again, isn’t growing up simply learning to march to the beat of one’s own, unique drum? Perchance it was the siren song of Spaniel Spaghetti that would have twirled my tastes anew—alas! The day proved too short for such dalliances.

Weary from the day’s exertions, I paused by Spa for Paws. But the pup I was would vanish like whispers in the wind if I succumbed to the frivolous facials and pawdicures within. No, I was meant for tougher stuff, like a visit to The Howling Husky Hardware Store, where the scent of sawdust and purposeful endeavor filled the air.

It’s in such places that one finds the tools to build a life, not just a doghouse. And as I carried on, I pondered growth, the inevitable lifting of one’s snout towards the horizon. The green park in the distance beckoned me, speaking of days beneath the sun, of something soft and squeaky within my jaw, and I realized—an adventure alone is naught but a tale untold.

With a wag of my tail that bore more stories than a bard’s satchel, I understood. I needed to recount my escapades, to weave them into the tapestry of Pawsburgh lore. So, I trotted back to Fetch! Toys and Treats, where I settled amongst friends, each a character so vibrant they needed no description to stand astride my own story.

We spoke not of leafy greens disdainfully prodded, but of succulent feasts shared. We did not dwell on the toys we loved, but on the moments they created. And as the peachy hue of sunset embraced Pawsburgh, I recognized this, too, was an experience only savored through the lens of shared recollections.

In the end, what is coming of age but a continual adventure? Each day a new chapter, each experience a steppingstone. From romping in Pinscher Plaza to the resolute strutting down the streets of our beloved Pawsburgh, we are all—my circle of mischievous mates and I—embarking on the grand enterprise known as growing up. And tonight, as Ellie welcomes back a tired but contented Cruella, she listens intently to the silent stories my wagging tail tells.

The End.