Hey there!

I became the unlikely sidekick to Rufus, The Christmas Shepherd, on a chilly Yuletide adventure last night. Together, we turned a lonely stray’s blue Christmas into one filled with belly-laughs and bellyfuls of pasta at Poodle’s Pasta! We brought warmth, meatballs, and holiday magic to the heart of Pawsburg. Remember, every paw can guide a soul home.

Sweet dreams,
Maya 🐾✨

Listen to the story here

Well, now, s’pose you hear about my Christmas escapade, considerin’ you’re acquainted with me, Maya, and my petite figure that gallivants ’round the whimsical town of Pawsburg. ‘Twas the eve of Christmas, and whilst my folks were nestled all snug in their beds, visions of steak bones dancin’ in their heads, I took off to the enchanting land where the pines were festooned with fairy lights and tinsel, and the spirit of Yuletide touched every fire-hydrant and doghouse.

Now, lest ya forget, I’m as sprightly as a sparrow on Sunday, and as jolly as a pup with a fresh bone. But that night, the air was crisp and heavy with mischief of snow and holly. With my trusty rubber chicken snug in my grasp, I trotted down to the frost-laden Kelpie Keys, where the water shimmered under the pale moonlight.

Sudden-like, I heard it – the blusterin’ woof of a lost soul wanderin’ through the blizzard’s bite. It was Rufus, the old German Shepherd; a sight for cold eyes he was, his fur dusted white, his gait slow and sure. He be the Christmas Shepherd, legends say, a guardian to lost travelers on starless nights.

“Maya, little bit of a thing,” Rufus greeted, his voice deep as the winter’s night, “would ya lend a paw on this fine Christmassy eve?”

“Happier than a hound on hunt,” said I, my tail wagin’ a carol all its own, and together we set out through Akita Alley, lighted by candy-cane lampposts.

Now, humanity has their Santy Claus, but us dogs? We’ve got each other, and Rufus led us to an old, tremblin’ stray, fur as grey as morning fog. The old boy seemed lost in a world too wide and too chilly for comfort, his eyes glazed with the shimmer of forgotten warmth.

Rufus, steady as a preacher, nudged him gently, “Ain’t no night for a soul to be alone, friend. Follow us.”

Wouldn’t ya know, the stray’s sniffles turned to tail wags, and soon we were rompin’ through the snow-coated streets, the winter’s chill no match for our company. And Rufus, the beacon of kindness, guided us towards the golden-lit windows of Poodle’s Pasta.

Now, the scent of garlic butter and meatballs wafted through the air, mingling with the pine and the smell of wet dog. Miss Penelope Poodle, in all her curly-haired glory, did swing open the door with a flourish fit for royalty.

“Darlings, enter, enter! No fur-child should be without shelter and spaghetti on Christmas Eve!”

We feasted fit for kings, sharing tales taller than the Tower of Pisa, and chuckling heartier than the jolliest of Santas. The old stray, now bright-eyed and belly-full, smiled a grin that could outshine the North Star.

When the clock chimed for my return, I set forth with a belly rounder than a meatball and the warmth of good deeds glowin’ through my silver streak.

Back in my earthly abode, as I curled on my bed, my tail still kept a soft rhythm, reflectin’ on the Yuletide miracles birthed in the heart of Pawsburg.

And so, here’s the moral of my Christmas tail – beneath the silver and gold glitter of the season, the true treasure lies in lendin’ a paw to those who’ve lost their way. In the spirit of the Christmas Shepherd, we all can be guides in the snow, heralding the virtues of guidance and kindness to every creature great and small.

There! That’s the story of my Christmas eve, a night that twines itself ’round the heart like tendrils of ivy. Do sleep well now, for evermore there’s a whisper of magic wandering through the dreams of those that listen close, in the hidden corners of Pawsburg.

The End.