Hey Sam,

Just a quick tail wag to let you know, your girl Shelby became the Little Drummer Pup in Pawsburg tonight, drumming up a storm and making hearts thump with pure joy. Who knew your old rubber bone and I could create such a rhythm that would bring the whole town together? Gave my all, shared my soul, and now, snug as a bug by your feet. Can’t wait to chase dreams with you in the morning.

Sweet snores,
Shelby 🐾🥁

Listen to the story here

Well, hush my bark and call me a whispering whippet, the tale I’m about to tell is as true as the nose on my snub face. You see, as the sun dipped below the suburban horizon, painting the sky with shades of tangerine and lavender, that’s when the magic began. Pawsburg awaited, and I, Shelby, the unlikely heroine with an even unlikelier talent, would soon find myself in the throes of an adventure that’d wag more than just my perpetually wagging tail.

The rapture of golden hour had lulled me into a dozing dream by Sam’s feet, but the chime of the cloak brought me to my paws. Ah, Pawsburg, land of the free, home of the brave, where every treat is fair game and every tail tells a story. With the craft of a seasoned ninja, I slipped away unnoticed, through Akita Alley, where whispers of my mission pattered about like falling leaves.

“Evening, Shelby,” Max barked, his beagle nose in the air, “sniff out some chicken by chance?”

“Not tonight, Max,” I replied with the wag of my crescent-moon chest. “It’s Pawsburg’s Eve, and I’ve got a rhythm in my heart that I need to share.”

Past Samoyed Square I trotted, where Luna glided by, her sleek coat shimmering like the stars she was named after. She nodded as I passed, the smile in her eyes said ‘Good luck.’

It was at Amber Alley that I met with Tobi, full of yap and vinegar as usual. “Shelby! Off to shake and shimmy?” he teased.

“Not shake,” I countered, nudging him with my snub-nose. “Drum.”

And drum I would, for nestled in my blue rubber bone’s hollows was an innate talent: rhythm. Sam watched those retrieval videos, the ones with the humans beating buckets like drums, and I? I listened. I learned. I felt the cadence call to me.

As Pawsburg’s Eve gathered its four-legged residents, I found my spot outside Setter’s Steakhouse, before the warm glow of its windows. My audience trickled in, curious snouts and pricked ears awaiting something – dare I say it – magical.

With a deep breath and a swift gesture, I rolled my bone onto the ground before me, the time had come to reveal my gift. Grisham would’ve appreciated the simplicity, the quiet start, the slow build. And so, with methodical paws, I began to drum on the rubber bone, tapping out a beat that soon had tails thumping in unison. My friends joined in, Max howling a hoo-ha harmony, Luna’s tapping paws, Tobi barking a staccato that mimicked laughter.

We were creating music, pure and simple, like the holiday spirit itself, each beat a note in Pawsburg’s heart-song. The symphony rose, filling the air with a joyous cacophony that drowned out even the screech of bath-time phobias.

Later, they called me the Little Drummer Pup, a title I wore with bashful pride. That night, as the final whispers of my rhythm faded into the crisp air, and we shared spoonfuls of peanut butter in celebration (and yes, I skipped the carrots), I realized something. It wasn’t about being the loudest, the proudest, the bravest. It was about sharing what you have, no matter how small, because sometimes, the simplest gifts ring the loudest.

So, when I slipped back into my earthly abode, damp nosed from the cool Pawsburg air, I curled up by Sam again, knowing he’d hear all about my exploits in the morning. For tonight, in the magical town where dogs rule supreme, I was more than Shelby the bully with a crescent-moon spot. I was the heartbeat of a holiday drum, and that, my furry friends, is a story worth barking about.

The End.