Hey, it’s Tuda – AKA Santa Paws Jr.! I had the paw-some mission of bringing the spirit of giving to Pawsburgh this Christmas Eve. Traded my old tennis ball for a sack of chew toys & BBQ treats and spread joy to all my fur-iends. And guess what? I found out that joy’s not just in getting, but in the heartwarming wag of giving. Hope your holidays are as jolly as a belly rub! 🎅🐾🎄 #PawsburghSantaPaws

– Tail-Wagger Tuda

Listen to the story here

“Just hear those sleigh bells jingle-ing, ring-ting tingle-ing too,” I sang under my breath, my tail keeping time to the festive rhythm, as the first snowflakes of the season dusted the cobblestone streets of Pawsburgh. The town was a tableau vivant of wintry wonder, and with each snowflake, magic seemed to settle like powdered sugar atop an already iced cake.

It was a special day in Pawsburgh, for tonight was the eve of Santa Paws Day, where every canine in our enchanting town would embrace their inner Santa, delivering toys and treats to their friends, a tradition as cherished as the first game of fetch.

I, Tuda, the pirate-eyed pittie with a penchant for pastries, had decided that this year I’d outdo myself – I’d become the Santa Paws the pups of this town would never forget. After all, what joy is there beyond the kind that spreads like soft butter on a hot piece of toast from Mr. Alphonse’s bakery?

The air outside the bakery was crisp, beneath the awakening hues of twilight. I nuzzled my old faithful tennis ball—it was time for an upgrade. Darting past Mr. Alphonse, whose “Ho Ho Ho” needed no practice, I ventured out with a purpose. My trusty companions, Bruno and Whiskers, were right on my tail.

Our first stop: The Pooch Playhouse. Canines and felines alike understood the universal language of new playthings. I nudged the door open with my snout, the bell chiming our arrival like the opening notes to a Christmas carol.

“Well Tuda, what might Santa Paws need from us today?” chuckled Jasper, the dachshund behind the counter, his tiny paws wrapped in holiday ribbons.

“A harvest of happiness,” I asserted, glancing at a mountain of chew toys that had the promise of joy etched into their rubbery facades. And just like that, a sac full of merriment was prepared; a token from me to every tail-wagger of Pawsburgh.

Next, the indulgent interlude at Bulldog’s BBQ, where I traded a wag and a winning smile for bits of barbecued bliss, enough to warm the tummies of my fellow nocturnal revelers.

With our Santa Paws sacs bulging, we made our journey under the vanilla sky, lit by twinkling storefronts and the Milky Way’s frosted flicker. Bruno, with his golden shimmer, looked as though he’d been dipped in stardust himself, while Whiskers, bless her tabby stripes, had donned a Santa cap.

The route was plotted: Eskimo Estuary, with its shimmering icicles, Saluki Sands, where snow was a rare yet welcome guest and Diamond Doberman Dunes, crowned with festive lights.

At each location, the joy of giving enveloped us. To see the twinkle in a pup’s eyes as they discovered a surprise made my heart swell like a dough proofing beyond the rim of a bowl.

“Why Tuda, you’ve outdone Santa Paws himself,” Bruno barked as we finished our night at the glowing hearth of Woof Waffles, licking syrup from our paws.

Yet, the night’s pièce de résistance came quietly. In the hush of near midnight, with the bakery in sight, I left my frayed tennis ball at the doorstep of a young pittie new to Pawsburgh. As I watched from a snowy spruce, he sprang at the sight, his joy a melody, a carol for the heart.

Yes, Santa Paws had indeed come to town, and in doing so, I had discovered that giving away pieces of our past could brighten someone else’s future. As I curled behind the bakery, my belly full of crumbs and Christmas spirit, I whispered into the night, “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a snug bite.”

The End.

Share This Story: