Hey pal,

Just a quick tail wag from me, Courage. You won’t believe it, but last night I guarded Pawsburgh from a nightmare’s jaws! They say not all heroes wear capes, but some do have four paws and a taste for adventure (and roast chicken). Tell the tales or whisper in awe; either way, I did it for us, for our furry friends, and for the heart of our town. I’ll see you at the creek.

With a woof of triumph,
Courage 🐾✨

Listen to the story here

In Pawsburgh, where tails are wagged not tales are had, I found myself venturing beyond the familiar scents of Jade Jack Russell Junction. The air nipped at my fur with the sharpness of suspicion, the moon a watchful eye in an otherwise careless sky. Evening dew whispered secrets to the cobblestones of Akita Alley as I ambled, my massive form casting long shadows that conversed with the darkness.

You know me, I’m Courage, a soul often contented with the tranquil burble of the creek. Yet tonight, my mind was restless, thoughts tempting the furrows of dread to blossom. Winston would have called it “premonitory inklings,” his voice threadbare with wisdom and the scent of tobacco that never was. A shame he wasn’t with me, for the horrors that stalked beneath the starless cloak of night sought an audience, and I was reluctantly cast in the leading role.

Oh, how comically I had expressed disdain for green beans and carrots, but as I passed Hound’s Hotdogs, the scent of fright was far more repulsive. A wrongness hung in the air, the kind that no canine, no matter how robust the heart, could ignore. Across the street, Pawfect Pastries stood silent, its normal bustle of midnight munchers replaced by an unsettling void.

A growl, low and sonorous, trembled the ground under my paws. It rose from Harrier Harbor, where the mists had woven a thick curtain obscuring nefarious deeds. I should have turned back, scampered even, to the warmer glow of The Pampered Pooch where fur was snipped, not goosebumps raised. But my fawn coat wasn’t just for show – courage wasn’t simply a moniker.

The growl morphed into an otherworldly howl, a symphony of despair. My body moved with a mind of its own, golden fur rising like the stalks of wheat in a fearsome wind. I approached the harbor, where no boat rocked and no bark echoed. Instead, there stood a figure, or the semblance of one, a shroud of terror in the shape of a dog but with the aura of a nightmare.

“You—you are not of this town,” I dared to say, my voice as steady as a trembling leaf.

The figure laughed, a hiss between snarls. “Astute, but futile. Pawsburgh will succumb to the dark.” And with a flick of its ghastly tail, the street lamps blinked out of existence, leaving us enshrouded in an abyss.

I thought of Evelyn then, her kindly scratches and unequaled roast chicken. I thought of my frayed blue rope and Scout’s misplaced bravado. Fight for them, for Pawsburgh, the voice of Evelyn whispered.

Steel forged in the fires of unknown depths surged through my veins. “Not while this gentle giant stands guard,” I roared, my voice ricocheting off invisible walls.

The figure lunged, a spectral wraith intent on consuming the essence of canine camaraderie. My response was neither bark nor bite, but an affirmation of all that was light within me. For isn’t that where true courage resides? Not in the clench of jaw or the might of paws, but in the unyielding spirit, the belief in something greater than oneself.

The battle was swift, a blur of shadow and light. When dawn crept over the horizon, chasing away the remnants of dread, I stood victorious. Pawsburgh was safe once more, and the eldritch horror that sought to claim it was but a wisp of fog melting beneath the sun’s tender caress.

And so, back through Akita Alley I padded, past the stirrings of life as Hound’s Hotdogs prepared for the day. Past The Groom Room where whispers of last night’s events would soon become the legends of Pawsburgh. As I settled near the creek, watching light dance across the water, I wondered if anyone would believe the tale of Courage, the gentle giant, who guarded their dreams even as they slumbered. But you, dear friend, you know the truth of it, and that is comfort enough.

For in Pawsburgh, horrors may lurk in shadowed corners, but courage—it resides in every heart that beats with love and loyalty. Every paw, large or small, brave or timid, holds the power to dispel darkness, especially when supported by friendships forged in this magical town of dogs.

The End.