Hey Pack Leader! 🐾 Just a quick pupdate—turned star-crossed matchmaker and partied under Pawsburgh moonlight, making merry with new fur-iends. This holiday, I found joy in more than just snoozes and snacks; I found heart in the howliday spirit. Cheers to new tales and wagging tails! 🎄✨ Catch you on the bark side, Sassy.

Listen to the story here

You probably think the life of an English bulldog is all snorts and Z’s—well, you’d be barking up the wrong tree. It’s Sassyfrass here, your narrating connoisseur of Pawsburgh’s eclectic culture and, yes, I have had the kind of holiday that tails will wag about for seasons to come.

It all started one chilly evening in my home sweet woof, a quaint cottage on the outskirts of Pawsburgh. The humans had toddled off, leaving me with the promise of solitude and the faint scent of roasted chicken. Yet, as the jingle of collars and distant howls filled the air, loneliness nipped at my chunky heels like a puppy on a pant leg.

Firing up my adventure-paws, I snuffled my way to Samoyed Square. All was merry and bright with strings of fairy lights that made the night sparkle like the slobber on a chew toy. I trotted past Canine Kabobs, as the scent of grilled meat made my taste buds do the samba, but I wasn’t there for the snacking—this time.

I wobbled along to The Fetching Feline Pet Emporium, where I spotted a neon sign for a holiday soirée at Dog’s Delicacies. A shindig without my signature entrance? Unthinkable. I strutted in, my trusty hotdog squeaky toy under one paw, ready to chase some tails and spread the cheer.

There, amidst the clinking of water bowls, I met a Husky with a twinkle in his eye and a wag that could power windmills. His name was Mayor Woofington, and he had a nose for mischief. He’d lost his heart to a frizz-haired Poodle from Fetch! Toys and Treats and was seeking an ally for a holiday romance setup. And so, the plot thickened like peanut butter in your jowls.

Together, we orchestrated the kind of evening that’d make Cupid quit his day job. We directed the poodle to The Pawfect Training Center under the pretense of an emergency grooming session. There, among festive bows and tinsel, Mayor Woofington awaited with a single rose clutched in his teeth, looking about as charming as a dog with a bath appointment.

Now, this bulldog may snort more than she speaks, but I’ve watched enough human rom-coms to know that love was about to unfurl like a dog unfurling from a cozy nap. The Poodle arrived, and the surprise worked like magic, or like the delicious serenity after the vacuum stops vacuuming.

From then on, the night was a whirl of romancing and prancing at Weimaraner Woods, and I tagged along like the third wheel on a tricycle—only more fabulous. There was laughter, there was barking, and somewhere between the jests and jesters, it hit me: I wasn’t the lonely bulldog in a cottage anymore; I was Sassyfrass, the matchmaker extraordinary, holiday edition.

The woofs at Blue Basenji Bay never saw such a party. As the Husky and the Poodle danced under the moonlight, I realized I’d found something more fulfilling than chicken—a connection. Maybe it was the holiday spirit, or maybe it was the new friends who scratched just the right spot behind my ears, but I felt like the luckiest dog in Pawsburgh.

And so, with a heart full of joy and a belly steering clear of foolish citrus, I trotted back home as dawn cracked the sky, seams bursting with stories. Now, don’t go thinking this is a sappy holiday tail—woof—I mean, tale. It takes more than mistletoe and a meaty scent in the air to turn Sassyfrass’ world topsy-turvy. Or does it? Next year, I’ll let you know if I fetched myself a romance, but for now, I’m content being the plus one to a kibble, a couch, and a darn good story.

The End.