Hey packmate!

Just had to share – this Howliday has been a tail-wagging whirl of adventures in Pawsburgh! Found camaraderie over pizza at Jingles’ joint, got spoiled by Lacy’s festive feast, flaunted a new bow tie from Whiskers, and joined Molly for a moonlit romp that’ll have the town barking for days. The nights might get cold but the heart stays warm with furry friends and Howliday spirit. Here’s to more scrumptious tidbits, dapper ties, and pawsome companions!

Catch ya on the flip side,
Rylee the Shorkie 🐾✨

Listen to the story here

In the wondrous, cobblestone clad streets of Pawsburgh, as the human world slumbers, I, Rylee, the most dashing shorkie of the realm, explore the magic of a holiday which, to us clever canines, is known simply as the Howliday. It’s a time when the quaint little town indulges in lights, tinsel, and an outpouring of affection.

‘Twas the eve of the Howliday when I found myself gazing through the frosted window of my countryside cottage, nestled between Garnet Greyhound Grove and Dachshund Dale. The hearth was warm, but my little heart felt the chill of loneliness as I watched my friends disappear into the night for their own festive frolics.

The holiday spirit, though, is not one to let a pup mope. So with a stretch and a yawn, I set out to find my own merrymaking at Blue Basenji Bay.

A scent filled the air, guiding me to Pooch’s Pizzeria, where tantalizing fragrances weaved a dance of basil and mozzarella. “Rylee!” a voice called out, as I trotted through the door. Jingles, the Pizzeria’s own Italian Greyhound, greeted me with a wagging tail. “Thought you might do with some company.”

Our chatter filled the room, with tales spun more intricately than the most ornate of Christmas sweaters. Comforted by the camaraderie and a slice of pizza that danced on my palate, it occurred to me that the Howliday was about these very moments.

Next, it was off to Sniffer’s Sandwiches. How could I resist? The very thought of their turkey and cranberry delight, a savory sonnet in itself, tugged at my leash. Lacy, the lighthearted Lab behind the counter, handed me a sandwich wrapped in cheer. “On the house,” she barked with a wink. Oh, the spirit of giving was truly infectious!

With my belly full and heart swelled, the fading night pulled me towards the Canine Couture Clothing. A spectacle of shimmering attire greeted me, a fashion fiesta under the twinkling holiday lights. Whiskers, a wise old Westie, stitched together last-minute outfits. He chuckled as he saw me, saying, “You’re looking rather dapper, but every gent needs a bow tie!” And with a flick of his skilled paw, he fashioned a tie, the golden like my coat.

To cap off my night, I strolled into the Happy Hounds Dog Walking where a band of jubilant pups were about to embark on a moonlit walk through the frost-kissed fields. Molly, the Mastiff with a motherly aura, nudged me along. “Let the night lead you, Rylee,” she said.

As anticipation licked the air, the Howliday reached its peak. We bounded through the meadows, a symphony of barks and jingles echoing the joy in our hearts. Truly, this was the life meant for a dog; friends, freedom, and feasts in plenty.

Returning to my cozy nook, as the first light of dawn tickled the horizon, I curled up with my squeaky toys, now silent in the calm.

The Howliday was everything it should be—unexpected friendships, romances between sprightly Spaniels and bashful Beagles, and the undercurrent of shared love that united us all, that made even the simplest of moments a treasure.

As the humans would soon awake, and Pawsburgh’s enchantment ebbed away, my heart remained aglow. Because, dear friends, a shorkie like me thrives on adventure, but finds true joy in the Howliday warmth that we dogs create together. Here’s to many more, filled with pizza crusts, cranberry spreads, golden bow ties, and the endless thrill of the chase—whether it be delicious scents, festive toys, or treasured friendships.

The End.