Hey Fur-ever Friend ☀️,

Just wanted to ‘paws’ and share that this holiday season, I realized I’m more than just a four-legged fluff; I’m the joy in Marjorie’s jig, the sparkle in Pawsburgh’s spirit. Every wag, lick, and bark of mine weaves happiness into our tails here. So here’s to being the unseen Santa Paws of our little town. 🐾🎄

Sending belly rubs and biscuit dreams,
Lori 🐶✨

Listen to the story here

As the twilight drew its purple cloak over Pawsburgh, and the stars began to twinkle like the mischievous eyes of pups at play, a sense of melancholia wrapped around me like one of Marjorie’s lovingly knit blankets. My paws planted firmly atop the hill by Whispering Willow Park, I gazed at the slipping sun, pondering the day’s worth. You see, the holiday cheer that trickled into every corner of Pawsburgh had somehow sidestepped my spirit.

“What’s the use?” I sighed to Jasper, who sat beside me, his tongue lolling out, aloof to the crisis of my existential yawn. “Every dog has his day, but maybe I’m yet to fetch mine.”

“Oh Lorelei,” Jasper exclaimed with a clumsy nudge, “this is hardly the time for gloom. It’s Christmas Eve!”

Just then, as if on cue to challenge my disheartened state, there danced into existence a twinkling form. A spectral being, shimmering in the crispy twilight air, descended toward us. He was a corgi, no ordinary corgi, though—his fur sparkled with stardust, and his eyes held galaxies.

“Lorelei, I am Clarence,” he woofed with a warm, melodious baritone. “Your guardian angel. I’ve come to show you what a tail-wagging difference you’ve made.”

Before I could bark in protest, everything whirled—an interlude of colors and sounds, a flickering of images fast and slow. We landed, soft as a paw on a pillow, outside Marjorie’s home. There, I watched, a silent specter, as past Christmases unraveled.

Marjorie, ever spry for her age, danced clumsily to Christmas hymns while decorating cookies, not a single one without my paw of approval. Laughter bubbled through the home like a pot of joy that never ceased to brim.

We drifted next to Whispering Willow Park, where Mimi, mid-purr and all, inspected holiday ornaments that Jasper and I had proudly found and displayed.

“Guardian angel or not,” I protested in a murmur, “these gleeful memories bear the stamp of many paws, not just mine.”

Clarence chuckled in response, his stardust tail swishing. “My dear, can’t you see? Without your boundless energy, without your presence, your warmth,” Clarence’s stardust paw gestured to each scene, each memory, “the tapestry of this park, of Marjorie’s life, of Pawsburgh itself, would not shimmer quite so.”

Back to present time, Blue Basenji Bay gleamed under the holiday lights as we paced, unseen, through Pawsburgh’s festive streets. At Chihuahua’s Chimichangas, a puppy eyed a rubber hamburger toy, undoubtedly one I had been guardian of many moons before. At The Groom Room, many a tail was fluffed to perfection, a style I once pioneered with a simple shake.

“And look here, Lorelei,” Clarence whispered, leading me to Woof Waffles, “without your zest for life, the joy of these simple moments would not be savored quite the same.”

As the night advanced, Clarence’s visions unveiled the heart of the matter—I was a dog, yes, but more importantly, a friend, a confidante, a bastion of joy. In a land like Pawsburgh, creatures thrive not on their individual triumphs but on love shared and multiplied.

As morning’s first light promised the Christmas day, I found myself on my hill, no longer a shadow of doubt but a beacon of hope. The spell of disheartenment was broken by the simplest revelation: my tale was not one of accolade or grand adventure, but of the lives touched, the company kept, and the love given.

With Marjorie stirring sleepily within the cozy nook that was our home, and my friends of fur and whisker preparing to share the day’s festivities, I knew now that every sunrise I greeted, every treat I savored, every belly rub I relished, shaped the world around me.

Indeed, it truly is a wonderful bark.

The End.