Hey family! 🎄
Just wanted to say, this Christmas in Pawsburg, I, your fluffy Frank the Tank, became a legend—mended old bones with Leonard, spread pawsitive vibes, and feasted like a canine king. We turned growls into wags! ✨🐾 Can’t wait to share more tales!
Lots of love and doggo kisses,
Frank 🐶💖

Listen to the story here

Ah, Pawsburg in the yuletide season. The kind of tale sprawled across my mind like the myriad glitter of forgotten December dreams. Transfixed between those cobbled stone streets beneath the merry twinkle of fairy lights, I, languid Frank, found myself trotting through the nearly celestial landscape of Papillon Promenade. I carried the air of the high mountains, a Black Bernese injecting a stately calm in the heart of canine festivities.

Now, don’t get the wrong idea. I wasn’t there for the fabulous trinkets from The Fetching Feline Pet Emporium or the savory sizzle wafting out of Bulldog’s BBQ. No, dear friend, my quest was far less tangible, laced with the irresistible spice of goodwill that only comes by once a year.

As the soft toll of Christmas bells echoed through the frost-kissed air, a touch of melancholy struck my otherwise warm soul. It was the sting of old wounds, the ghost of a past where forgiveness was a stranger and generosity was the quiet folk in the shadows. Time it was, perhaps, to put away the boxing gloves and extend a paw. Even us gentle giants have chapters to close, friendships to mend. Pawsburg was the stage upon which this catharsis would unfold, right under the watchful eyes of Father Christmas, wagging his merry tail on high.

I padded my way to Chestnut Cocker Courtyard, where dappled light danced among the canine faces. Merry dogs, rowdy mutts, the whisper of a scandal at Doggone Deli—a backdrop worthy of Thompson himself, fueled with the riotous current of gonzo journalism flowing through my veins.

A profound thought then struck me amid the veiled hints of grilled meat and the frivolous chatter of my fellow four-legged friends: This was a place I was loved without condition, a realm where my shyness transformed into the prowess of a philosopher king among canines.

A stone’s throw away, Pomeranian Park beamed with merriment, its verdant calm now awash with the joys of canine camaraderie.

“Frank!” The voice sliced through my musings like a sardine through cream—rich, undeniable. I turned to behold the jolly snout of Leonard, a bulldog of exceptional girth and mirth. He had been a part of the strained past I alluded to, tangled in a disagreement as old as the dirt on our paws. Yet there he stood, draped in the spirit of Christmas, the olive branch metaphorically dangling from his drooling jowls.

“Leonard,” I greeted, the elegance of my warrior paint undisturbed. “A merry Christmas to ye.”

We romped through our misgivings, tossing them to the yuletide winds with every leap and bounce. Forgiveness, an exhilarating chase through the snow-capped fields of the heart. The true spirit of Christmas nipped at our heels, urging us on our shared journey towards generosity.

The day waned, and Leonard and I, now as inseparable as merry and light, ventured forth to the warmth of Whippet Wraps. We feasted not just upon the succulent morsels they graciously flung at us, but on the shared thrill of renewed friendship. The company of one’s pack, the enchantment of the season, it was enough to make even the cool, tempered Frank I am to frolic like a pup once more.

As the night drew its heavy curtain across Pawsburg, and the constellation of stars twinkled alive, I recollected our adventure to Leonard. His stubby tail a metronome of joy, his eyes alight with the reflection of our shared tale. I knew I’d speak of this day to my distant human family, the ones that cradled me in tenderness.

“And that, my friend,” I said, with a flourish of my white-tipped tail, “is a Christmas Tail to be reckoned with.”

I left Pawsburg as I came—a regal figure skating through the silence of the night, my Christmas tale sewn into Pawsburg folklore. The trees whispered, the stars nodded. Frank the Black Bernese, keeper of the Christmas spirit, shaper of tales, and a dog of profound character.

The End.