Hey fam! 🌟🐾

Just saved Pawsburgh from zombified squirrels with Krug (she’s a boss)! Swung lassos like a wild west hero and ended the day with victory poutine. Living the guardian dream, one epic shaggy dog story at a time.

Catch ya on the flip-flop,
Juppie 🐶✨👑

Listen to the story here

It was yet another misty dawn in Pawsburgh, where the laws of reality took a peculiar twist, and where I, Jupiter, found myself awakening to the quiet before the storm. If anyone had happened across our town, they might mistake it for abandoned, with vines ensnaring Diamond Doberman Dunes and the jetties of Pointer Pier lying eerily quiet. But we knew better. We, the dogs of Pawsburgh, had made a world of our own.

In the lingering dew of post-apocalyptic silence, I stretched my limbs – a routine preamble to the day’s unavoidable adventure. The world had certainly gone to the dogs, but in a far more literal sense than that old human saying ever intended.

The earth sang with a faint rumble as my paws hit the ground, heading out from my usual haunt towards Mutt Munchies. The scent on the wind promised delectable spoils, but I resisted; it was no time for indulgence. My sister Krug, ever the pixie in fur, awaited me by the order window with a twitch of her nose. She’s a pied piper in miniature, but this morning her gaze was all business.

“Jupiter, the scouts report trouble by Eskimo Estuary,” she whispered, her eyes a mix of steel and shadow. “Something about unsavory visitors.”

‘Unsavory’ was putting it mildly. The living was one thing, but you haven’t lived until you’ve faced the ‘walkers’ – rogue zombie squirrels attempting to nip at your heels, driven by whatever undead instincts plagued their bushy-tailed brains. They were the real pests of Pawsburgh.

We made haste, my stout frame paradoxically nimble as we navigated the quieted chaos of the Howling Husky Hardware Store for supplies. In no time, we were armed with the finest rope toys converted into lassos – a Doberman-Rottweiler’s answer to the post-apocalyptic weapon’s cache.

The sun climbed higher as we reached our destination, the once tranquil Eskimo Estuary now a potential ground zero. My pulse quickened; these were the moments that I, a vigilant canine, lived for – to protect, to serve, to embody the guardian ethos etched into my DNA.

Silence reigned until it was suddenly punctured by the notorious sound of scampering. The squirrels! Their beady eyes glinted with an unholy hunger, their tiny paws tainted by the undead curse. Krug and I stood back-to-back, an island of defiance surrounded by a sea of misplaced rodent veracity.

With precision that would have earned appreciative nods from our departed human companions, the lassos twirled and danced. Each toss captured an adversary, and each captured adversary was flung into a bespoke containment pen. The trusty Doggie Diner stood nearby, its owners now pondering an unlikely pivot to ‘squirrel stew’ on tomorrow’s menu.

As twilight descended upon Pawsburgh, peace returned like a comforting blanket. Krug and I retreated to Pup’s Poutine where a celebratory feast awaited: the culinary equivalent of a warm hug for a battle well-fought.

“Ever consider a vegetarian diet?” Krug jested, nudging my ribs as I devoured a meaty concoction that would make a vegan weep.

“I’m an omnivore with carnivorous tendencies,” I retorted in mock offense, to which we both chuckled. The meal’s perfection lay not solely in its consumption but in the company and the quiet contentment it brought with it.

The day dwindled to a close with tales of the skirmish passing among friends at The Doggy Depot, all joyously recounting the intrigue. We were the walking pets, navigating a world that had crumbled, a world where each bark and growl held a story, a survival testament.

And as my head settled on the soft bed of my human’s backyard Earth, I found comfort in the constancy of it all. This may be a husk of the world we once knew, but in Pawsburgh, we were more than survivors. We were comrades, heroes, legends. We were dogs—a collective of kindred spirits always ready for the next chapter.

I am Jupiter. This was a day in my life. And the morrow? Ah, that’s another tail altogether.

The End.

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