Hey Jamie, just a heads up: I’ve taken up a side gig as Santa Paws Jr. in Pawsburg! 🎅🐾 I’ve been busy spreading Yuletide cheer, sneaking joy into every bowl, and serving up comfort with these expressive eyes. Who knew your little furball was the heart of Christmas magic? 🎄✨ Catch you in the morning with wags and stories! – Ollie 🐶💖

Listen to the story here

Ah, Pawsburg. If you thought the clatter of the mailman’s approach was the extent of my excitement, you’ve not seen the magic that is this town during the whisker-whitening season of Christmas. Humming with the jingles of collars and the shuffling of paws, it transforms, a wonderland to rival any human festive postcard. And me, Oliver, who prides himself on his expressive eyes and dauntlessly playful demeanor, I found myself in the middle of a story which began, curiously enough, with a squeaky, rubber ball.

You see, that night, as I lay in my cozy abode, the usual sounds of silence cut by the sharp yapping of a Pomeranian in the distance, a peculiar glow began to seep through the cracks of the front door. It wasn’t the familiar, harsh glare of a streetlamp, but a warmer, inviting luminescence, like the heart of a fireplace beckoning all cold noses to its hearth.

Stealthily, as only a dog with my mixed heritage could master, I ventured out. The chill air nipped at my ears, and snowflakes danced around me, pirouetting with the grace of the hushed world. And there it was, Setter Shore aglow, each snowflake like a gemstone handpicked by Santa Paws himself.

The Shore was not lonely; dogs of every breed frolicked, their breath misting the air, their voices ardent in a chorus of barks. My compadres, Max and Luna, were already there, the former’s coat catching snowflakes, the latter’s eyes glittering with equal parts mischief and Christmas spirit.

You wonder? Why the gathering? The call had been clear – Santa Paws was in need of a stand-in, a young pup to learn the ropes. Ah, and fate, like a cunning cat, pawed my nose towards this calling.

The elder, a bearded Collie named Nicholas—no coincidence I assure you—addressed us. His voice rolled over the barks like thunder, soft yet commanding. “Good pups of Pawsburg, the spirit of Christmas relies not on one but on all. Who among you will spread joy? Who will embody giving?”

My four paws rooted to the ground, a shiver of anticipation skating down my spine. I thought of Jamie, how seizing the squeaky ball brought laughter, how friendship with Max and Luna colored my everyday. Was this not the crux of Christmas? The warmth that unfurled in your chest when joy was shared?

And so, my tail wagging its own frantic metronome, I stepped forward.

The journey of learning was a tale of its own. We traveled, Max, Luna, and I, to every charming corner of Pawsburg. To Jade Jack Russell Junction, where the air sparkled with promises, where we gifted new squeaky toys that chimed harmoniously with the joyous yips of the young pups.

We delivered parcels of doggy delights from Canine’s Cuisine to the elderly at Bloodhound Bluffs, each with tales taller than Luna perched atop a snowdrift. At Pup’s Parfait, we slipped in peanut butter jars, and oh!—never has a spoonful tasted so celestial as when shared in the spirit of Santa Paws.

I had never crafted a list, never checked it twice. Yet, as I saw the twinkles in the eyes of my friends, their tails scripting joy in the snow, I knew. This, right here, was my Christmas, my true calling.

Even the mailman, our daily herald of displeasure, received a token; a peace offering in the form of a knitted muffler from The Tail Wagger’s Tailor, his perplexed gratitude a high note in our symphony of goodwill.

The Giving Bone, it turns out, was within me all along, buried beneath layers of youthful mistrust and exuberance. I learned to harness it, to spread comfort and cheer, to truly listen with these soulful eyes of mine.

Pawsburg’s echo of my new title jingled merrily through the streets, “Santa Paws Jr.,” they called, and it felt just right. With every bark and purr, with every paw print set upon the snowy canvas, I pledged to carry this new-found warmth beyond the season, a promise sealed with a paw shake, as I returned home – just before Jamie woke, none the wiser of her own pup’s moonlit escapade.

The End.