Hey Mom,

Somehow turned into Pawsburgh’s unofficial ankle-biting philosopher—woof! Been unraveling my tail’s worth of existential knots only to stumble into an epiphany, courtesy of a celestial Setter and our very own gentle giant Max. Found out my paws leave more than pawprints; they spark joy in ways I never wagged at. So, yep, got my holiday spirit back, brighter than a belly rub session under mistletoe. Feeling fur-tastic now!

Fetch you later,
Onyx aka Hotdog 🐾🌟

Listen to the story here

Amid the swirl of twilight, as stars set their stage above, it was another silent night in the little town of Pawsburgh—silent, that is, if you block out the charming jingle of collars and the mirthful murmur of doggy dreams coming true. That’s where I found myself, Onyx, the contemplative Black Maltichi, wearing my droopy ear like some sort of philosopher’s beret, feeling unaccountably… off.

You know how it is, with the holiday lights twinkling like flecks of gold on the velvet drapes of night, and all you can do is wonder if the sparkle means as much to everyone else as it does to you? That’s where I was perched, on the precipice of an existential ponder, when –

“Hey, Onyx,” a voice called, and I would recognize that drawl even if it came from the moon—it was Maximus, the surprisingly sensitive Great Dane with a heart about as big as his frame.

“I’ve been watching you,” he continued; the guy had a knack for making you feel like you were the center of a history documentary. “You’ve been moping around like Woody Allen in a dog suit. What gives?”

In Maximus’ gaze, I found my own reflection, my soulful eyes—windows to an inner disquiet I couldn’t quite articulate, a tangle of thoughts like the Christmas lights I inevitably tangled around myself every year.

“I don’t know, Max. Ever feel like you chase a lot of tails and end up right where you started?” I asked.

Maximus sat beside me, his large frame shadowing over the twinkling cobblestone. “Sometimes it’s not about the chase, it’s about the impact you leave on those around you.”

Before I could retort with a trademark quip, a figure appeared from the haze of holiday glow. Not a Great Dane this time—it was refined, with an air of timelessness. A guardian angel? I didn’t believe in such myths, but then, I also didn’t believe in a town run exclusively by dogs until I found myself a resident.

The guardian angel, a silver-furred Setter with eyes that penned novels with a glance, spoke earnestly, “Onyx, you need to see the joy you’ve wrought.”

We traversed through Pawsburgh without moving, a magical tour of my unseen influence: there was the time my plush squirrel escapades brought laughter to Rosalind’s owner when hospital walls threatened to close in, the comfort I provided to my human when the world outside was colder than the chill that swept through Eskimo Estuary.

We floated through Pawfect Pastries where my enthusiastic (albeit slobbery) greeting every morning gave the chef the jolly encouragement to whip up canine delicacies, and reached my ultimate detour from cheer: the decorated tree I guarded solemnly each year, mistakenly believing I was merely saving it from “attack” by the cat.

“You’re a bark of joy in their silent nights,” the angel articulated, her prose as clear as the message she delivered.

As if a fog had lifted, or a squirrel finally caught, I saw it—my life’s subtle symphony playing in the hearts I touched. I was no mere background bark in their lives—I was as fundamental as the ground upon which they walked.

When the angel left (to visit other contemplative pups, I presumed), I found myself at peace, nestled in the blanket of Pawsburgh’s magic. “It really is a wonderful bark,” I thought aloud, my tail wagging to the rhythm of the newfound truth in my heart, “And a wonderful life.”

And with that, my spirit lightened, the clouds parting just enough to let the Christmas star shine on, as I padded back home, ready to regale my humans with tales of Pawsburgh’s enchantment, knowing now the brilliance of the light I cast in their world.

The End.

Share This Story: