Hey Guardian of Whispers,

Just a little update from Coco – today, I traded sonnets for twinkling streets, savored a quiche, hobnobbed with the wise, and launched a squirrel mission for a boy’s merry heart. Tucked cozy now with dreams of beagles and bagels. Ah, the silent nights of a Yuletide Frenchie!

Sweet dreams,
Coco 🐾✨

Listen to the story here

One would hardly believe a canine’s calendar could be so chock-full, but then, you’ve not lived until you’ve seen Pawsburgh during the Christmas clamor. Ah, the holly-jolly hysteria! Truly, it’s the most whimsical time for a Frenchie with a heart full of Yuletide spirit.

Early this crisp morning, I, Coco, aught to depart from snoozing under the librarian’s soothing sonnets, to a mission of the utmost secrecy and importance. The guardians of our fabled tales do fancy a nap, yet off I trotted through the portals to Pawsburgh, my compact paws lighter than tinsel on the tree.

The place was all a-twinkle, from Affenpinscher Avenue to Bloodhound Bluffs—every lamp post festooned with garlands, every fire hydrant bearing a bow. First stop? Tail-Twitching Treats, for a light breakfast. “A grilled chicken quiche,” I woofed to the chef, “hold the festive lemon zest.”

As I savored each succulent morsel, Bella bounded by, her nose to the snow-covered ground. “Sniffing out yet another mystery?” I mused, an eyebrow arched. “Indeed,” she replied, “but no time to chat. I must chase this clue down Lhasa Lane!” Off she darted, with not but the whisper of sleigh bells to mark her gone.

What whimsy awaited me next, you ask? To The Pawfect Training Center I went, where Max—he of the drool-laden wisdom—was into his cups (of eggnog, I should say). “Mornin’, Max,” I hailed, and he, with a belch, imparted, “A day without learning is like a sky without stars, Coco. Chase your curiosities!”

Max ever spoke in riddles or rhymes, but I needed my wits about me on this day. For the crux of my adventure lay just ahead, in Fetch! Toys and Treats, where a certain plush squirrel awaited to be sent to a far-off city, there to be the boon companion of an elf’s best friend—a lonely lad called Cris, who’d forgotten the scent trail back to merriment with his family.

Placing a sprig of holly upon the squirrel’s head, I entrusted it to Oliver the cat, who’d perfected the art of delivering packets undetected by the snooping noses of humans. “Relax, pupper,” he purred. “It’ll be under the city tree before you can say ‘Noel’.”

The day waned, as did my vigor. Even party-going Pawsburgh paused to catch its breath. I curled up in Beagle Bagels, where the waft of doughy delights tickled my fancies. As the stars blinked alive overhead, I pondered the city that never paws, where Cris, with a present nestled under boughs, might just find the trail back to joy in the scrabble of tiny paws on festive paper.

Such thoughts warmed me better than the toasty bagel nooks. I returned, as night fell, to the comforting book haven, where my guardian whispered tales of enchanted puppies and kingly kittens. And though I never saw the squirrel’s journey’s end, I knew, in that peculiar way dogs do, that the magic parcel had been paw-delivered to a boy who needed it most.

“Adventures abound, my darling Coco,” the librarian murmured, none the wiser of my escapades. “In dreams, and in the world only you dogs know.”

Indeed, my loving librarian, indeed.

With my plush squirrel now gone, I snuggled closer to my guardian in the dream-woven depths of the long, silent night. And that is but a day of my life—Coco, the adventure-hearted, Christmas-spirited Frenchie of Pawsburgh.

The End.