Hey Jamie,

Turns out, I’m the mastermind behind the best Christmas you haven’t heard about. I’ve been moonlighting as the holiday hero of Pawsburgh, leading the furriest festivity feat with my partner-in-crime, Athena. Between bobbing for baubles and shawarma shenanigans, I’ve got tales (and tails!) that would make your head spin. Pooch’s Pizza’s on me tonight if you keep our secret! 😉

Cheers,
Frank the Furtastic

Listen to the story here

‘Twas the first day of Christmas in Pawsburgh, the most hush-hush hamlet on this side of the hydrant where we canines commandeered the calendar. We didn’t just count down the days with chew toys and treats. Oh no, we did it with the flair that only dogs with passports to an enchanted town could have.

So, there I was, Frank, your friendly neighborhood Frenchie, embarking on another clandestine canine caper. My humans, bless their oblivious hearts, thought I was snoozing on my beloved blankie. But little did they know, I possessed the finesse to slip into Pawsburgh, where the yuletide yips were about to begin.

“My dear Frank! You’ve made it!” The majestic Athena greeted me at Quartz Qimmiq Quarter, her fur glinting under the festive faerie-lights. We did our customary secret handshake, which involved a lot more nose boops and paw-taps than you’d guess.

The town twinkled with a magic that only dogs could dream up. And as a gentleman rogue, I had my paws full with holiday shenanigans to plan. I wagged my way to Harrier Harbor, where boisterous barkers were already bobbing for baubles.

“Athena, darling, watch my six!” I said before leaping into the festivities.

Now, you might not think a stocky little dude like me could jump high, but let’s just say I’ve got more ups than the Dow Jones on a good day. One, two, three leaps, and I scored the shiniest ornament, which—to my delight—was cheese-flavored. Pawsburgh truly was a paradise.

With the bauble tucked safely in my jowls, I strolled to Shepherd’s Shawarma for a quick nosh. It was there that I met a green bean—a green bean that dared to touch my plate!

“Frank,” Athena chided me through mouthfuls of her own shawarma, “manners!”

“Ugh, vegetables.” I rolled my eyes so hard they could’ve bowled a strike, excusing the green offender from my presence with a decisive flick of my paw.

The sun dipped lower, and my tail wagged harder. The second day of Christmas was close, and Mr. Whiskers was scheming. From across the room, that crafty cat sent a wink my way, signaling that it was time for our next caper.

“Athena, I require your aunt-like oversight,” I uttered gravely, to which she nodded and rose with the stateliness of a canine Cleopatra.

The final revelation of the night lay on Rottweiler Ridge, where the grand tree lighting was set to take place. The whole of Pawsburgh had gathered, each furball a-buzz with anticipation.

“Aaaaaand… boom!” Mr. Whiskers’ voice cut the cool evening air just as the tree erupted in a symphony of lights.

“Woof, that’s bright,” I squinted, imitating Jamie’s favorite eye-roll-worthy phrase.

In the distance, the Groom Room and Woof and Whisker Wellness Center stood ablaze with twinkling lights, while pups paraded freshly fluffed and sporting jingle-bell collars.

As the night wound down, I found myself at Pooch’s Pizzeria, sharing a slice of Margherita—extra cheese, hold the green stuff—with my Pawsburgh pals.

“Athena, imagine if Jamie knew of our Twilight Bark Christmas Countdown?” I mused aloud.

“But Frank,” Athena smirked, “what they don’t know makes for better stories.”

And with that, my heart full of cheese and my spirit high on holiday hoopla, I dashed back to my cozy earthly abode. Just in time for Jamie to wake and whisper, “Morning, buddy, you look like you’ve had one heck of a dream.”

Oh, if only humans knew, the dreams of dogs are more dazzling than they could ever dream up.

The End.