Hey Mom,

Just had to share: I turned detective today to find my pal Oscar and ended up helping a retriever with a nose bright enough to guide Santa’s sleigh! Turns out, I played hero sidekick for Pawsburgh’s epic Christmas Eve parade glow-up. Imagine me, Tails of Adventure, brushing paws with festive fame. More tail-wagging tales soon!

Hugs and nose nudges,
Georgia 🐾

Listen to the story here

Picture this: a luminous morning break in Pawsburgh—where the dawn comes not from the sun, but the light from a young retriever’s remarkable nose. I’m Georgia, fondly known as Georgia’s Tail, a connoisseur of adventures and fine chicken strands, but let me relay to you an escapade that’s rather unusual even for a town as curious as ours.

Here in Topaz Terrier Town, where the cobblestone shimmered from last night’s rain, I found myself wandering amidst the buildings with the sunrise yawn. You see, my best pal, a certain Mr. Oscar, was nowhere to be seen.

“Looking for your spotted sidekick?” inquired the poodle manning the pasta stand, her eyes narrowing in that way poodles do—you know, like they’re both judging and pitying your life choices simultaneously.

I offered her a curt nod, opting to retain my secrets—Oscar and I had planned to taste-test the culinary masterpieces of Pawsburgh all week. Shepherd’s Shawarma was next on our gastronomic gauntlet.

I took a casual stroll down Lhasa Lane, the heart skipping in my chest as I sniffed the air. It was a cocktail of scents; herbs, meats, and a whiff of desperation. Some might assume it was the hunger-driven kind, but my snout knew better.

A thunk on a door in Akita Alley disrupted my scent reverie. It was the young retriever with the illuminating schnoz—a bright, flashy thing that made my own red brindle coat feel pedestrian.

“Georgia,” he barked, voice quivering like the last leaf in November, “I can’t be seen. Today, of all days, when my nose is needed the most!”

“Needed for what?” I asked, stepping closer—my reflection on his nose comically bright. I was less impressed with the light show, and more curious about this ‘critical mission’ everyone in Pawsburgh whispered about.

“Why, it’s Christmas Eve,” he howled, “and the fog’s rolling in thicker than the fluff on a Chow Chow!”

Of course! Tonight, he was to guide the famed Holiday Howl, a time-honored tradition where the dogs in Pawsburgh became the shepherds of light, our very own Yuletide fairy tale.

“Let’s get you to Spa for Paws,” I suggested, nudging him with a nuzzle. “Perhaps a spritz and a polish of that beacon of yours will reinforce your spirit.”

The thought seemed to perk him up, and off we trotted to The Fetching Feline Pet Emporium first—every hero needs the right collar for their grand moment.

As we approached the Barking Boutique, Oscar was there, his eyes bright, and tail churning the air like he was painting with glee.

“Missed you at Shepherd’s,” he barked, a hint of a tease in his tone.

“Mission of utmost importance,” I replied, and we shared a knowing glance because that’s what friends do—create an air of drama where there’s seemingly none.

And so, evening unfurled its foggy curtain across Pawsburgh, and the retriever’s glowing nose cut through, a lighthouse in the soup, guiding the parade of festivity—a sight to warm even the coldest of paws.

From behind the curtain of the night, I watched, my faithful drummer boy toy wedged under my chin like a talisman. Oh, to see every breed, every tail and snout, fall in step behind our luminous guide… it was a Christmas miracle crafted in Pawsburgh—a tale for the ages. A tale that, I, Georgia’s Tail, had a paw in shaping.

And thus, snuggled against my mom’s side, with the sweet scent of victory blend with doggy dreams, I whispered to her of heroes with shining noses, friends with unbreakable bonds, and a Christmas Eve where all is bright, and every dog has its day—or should I say, its night.

The End.