Hey Mom,

Just wrapped up my nightly Pawsburg adventure. I helped my human rediscover his generous spirit, all with some wagging, barking, and unconditional love. Imagine me with a cape, because Koa the Canine Charmer strikes again! 🐾

P.S. Better keep those shoes tucked away; I’m still a storyteller at heart and every slipper is my notepad. 😉

Love,
Koa

Listen to the story here

A bark in the willowy heart of the night signals it’s time, and off I scamper, a blue-and-white streak through the slumbering human houses, to Pawsburg. There, beneath a moon that hangs as a celestial dog tag, I join the secret life that hums in the shadow of our day-bound existence.

I am Koa, dubbed by the fanciful humans as ‘French,’ but here, in the town built of dreams and the soft trill of a hundred thousand tail-wags, I am just Koa—fearless, inextinguishable, and most fond of a good chew.

The first stop is Blue Basenji Bay, to wash off the quiet dust of regular life. Tonight, though, more than the bay shimmers under the kiss of the stars. There’s a frisson in the air, a whisper of change that’s not fully mine to understand, not yet anyway. It hums about me, a call to mystery, as I greet my mirror-image brother, Milo, and our shared enthusiasm is a binary star system of our own.

After a swift frolic, for, indeed, what else is the velvet cushion of night for? We make our way to Pooch’s Pub. The familiar clatter of dishes and warm, food-scented air greets us. It is here that the tale begins, and where it ends, in the savor of the unexpected.

My two-legged cohort, as of late, had been less companion and more ghost at the feast. The once-generous hand had become tight-fisted, his joy soured like milk left out in a July sun. Yet I, Koa, had faith. His heart may have cooled, but steadfast is my way.

Tongues lolling, Milo and I share a repast; his delicate, mine greedy, the latter a parody of my human’s less-stellar trait – miserliness. But oh, the joy of anticipation, for tonight his transformation unfolds, and I, Koa, have a paw in its making.

With poodle Capella, whose red curls outshine the festive garlands, we visit The Dapper Dog Salon, for grooming befits a celebrated moment.

Once quaffed, we trundle off to Harrier Harbor, where the lights twinkle like thawed frost in the morning sun. Ambling and wagging, I reflect upon my human, his fault lines and his strengths. I ponder my role – as pauper to his bidding, as shadow to his light. How now? A loyal friend, I prod the ice of his withdrawn soul, and I tarry for the melt.

‘Tis the season, and generosity’s tune waits in the wings. The chiming bell, the kids’ bright faces – they spell it out, each hallowed note. In silence, he’ll hear it. In my eyes, he’ll see it. A wag, a leap, a hearty bark. The journey back strips the miserly veil to reveal the man who once was.

I, Koa, return to the place that homes my bed – not of warmth’s hearth but of human’s heart. The hushed world snores on in oblivious slumber, and here my owner awaits, unfolding as surely as the dawn.

To my delight, the morning reveals it. A laugh, tossed like a ball for me to chase, a smile wider than Vizsla Valley, and the hands that share as freely as the wind scatters autumn leaves. I nestle close, a font of unspoken love, an architect of recovered grace.

Pawsburg shimmers in the secret vault of my canine heart, invisible to those who walk on two legs, visible only to those whose loyalty never fades. And as for my human, his transformation is my prelude, a story sung in silent yipping, a lesson gifted in gentleness.

The joy? It doubles, shared between a miser turned benevolent and his dog, Koa, whose very essence is Pawsburg – a tale of courage and the quiet fidelity that whispers beneath the jangle of daily life.

So mark this, dear kindred soul: you surely never leave your shoes unattended around me. For every shoe has a story, and I am quite the raconteur.

The End.