Hey Mom,

Guess who’s the star of Pawsburgh’s Christmas show? Your own Fatty McFatterson! Led the whole doggy gang in a spectacular performance. Even romanced Daisy the Dalmatian in a ‘Jingle Barks’ duet! Town’s abuzz with our holiday cheer. Like a true Christmas tale, only fluffier. Tail wags and face licks all around!

Woofingly,
Newman 🐾🎄

Listen to the story here

I recall it was a crisp, snowy morning when the notion of a Christmas show first danced into my thoughts, like a fetching tune you can’t help but hum. The snowflakes descended like a quiet ovation to Pawsburgh and its grand holiday cheer. My peers had long spoken of a grand spectacle, and it seemed only fitting that I, Newman the English Bulldog, might helm such a glorious endeavor. After all, my taste for the dramatic was as well-known as my aversion to citrus.

On such mornings, the air in Pawsburgh would be thick with anticipation, for not every day does one organize a Christmas show. I steered my humble steps towards Washburn Park, for it struck me that the staging of such an event must be among friends and the open embrace of nature. The town was alight with specks of white and the chatter of canines finding their paths to our snowy rehearsal.

I arrived to find Babs already in the midst of a resounding howl, practicing for what I imagined would be our opening act. A smile, involuntary as it was genuine, had blossomed on my jowls when Bruno, the German Shepherd, imparted tales of Christmas past with such flair that even Charles Dickens would have stopped to listen.

“Friends,” I barked, my voice scattering birds from the nearby pines, “Let us not just celebrate Christmas, but create a spectacle the likes of which even the humans will yearn to decipher from our contented snores and wagging tails!”

The cheer that met my words would have warmed the coldest of winter mornings. Even the frosty air seemed to buzz with a newfound warmth.

Our rehearsals would span the length of Pawsburgh, from Samoyed Square’s shimmering lights to the snuggly corners of Opal Pomeranian Park. We caroled and cavorted, our performances seasoned with the delectable scents wafting from Shepherd’s Shawarma and Paw-lickin’ Pancakes.

Amidst the joyful chaos, mine eyes happened upon Daisy, a Dalmatian diva of quiet demeanor yet brilliant talent. Our paths seldom crossed but in the spirit of the season, and perhaps enticed by the enigmatic twinkle of her spot-speckled coat, old friendships were nurtured and, dare I say, new romances hinted.

“Perhaps you’d grace us with a duet?” I propounded, hoping my proposal would not cause her to turn tail.

“To the tune of ‘Jingle Barks’?” replied Daisy, the hint of a doggy grin playing upon her lips.

The night of the show found Pawsburgh blanketed in a fresh coat of snow. Quartz Qimmiq Quarter glowed like a beacon of mirth. The waggish warmth of my fellow dogs filled the air as we took to the stage, an assembly of merrymakers bound by fellowship and the shared love of a good romp in the snow.

At the afterparty, hosted in the fabulously festive Fetch! Toys and Treats, we exchanged tales and tender licks under a sky alight with stars. The joyous cacophony of the evening burned as bright as the open hearth, bringing with it the promise of many more adventures to recount to our humans who, none the wiser, would marvel at our cheer come dawn.

As for Daisy and I, our duet rang true and sure—as though it were always meant to be—and as the snowflakes continued their descent, I couldn’t help but feel the fabric of my days, rich and abundant, a life woven with joy, companionship, and all the grandeur of a Pawsburgh Christmas.

The End.

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