Hey Mom,

Just a heads up from your alpha girl, Sue Jangles! Turns out, humans are MIA, and us dogs are living it up in Pawsburgh. Took charge and rallied the furry gang to turn our human-less town into a dog’s haven. I’m now the proud leader of our pack. We face some old fears (hello, vacuum monster-turned-artwork) and embrace new joys each day. We’re crafting a pawsome society that’s all bark and all bite – in the best way. Wags and woofs,

SUE 🐾✨

I recall it was a morning shimmering with the curious light that peeks through after calamity, the world having been turned topsy-turvy quite suddenly. The humans were gone, vanished like the last bite of a particularly scrumptious treat. And there we were, we noble pooches, left to our own devices in Pawsburgh, our clandestine haven.

I trotted through the deserted streets, the air thick with a silence punctuated only by the occasional distant bark. Pointer Pier, once vibrant with the cheer of a thousand wagging tails, stood eerie in the calm. I, Sue Jangles, a sturdy lass of English Bulldog descent, took it upon me to gather the clan of canines that remained. The world was ours now, and by the sacred chew toys of our ancestors, we’d make the best of it.

As I ambled down to Topaz Terrier Town, the bristling breeze played with my patchworked brindle fur. You see, the thing about us dogs is, we’re rather adaptable. And in this new world, we found opportunity to romp unbridled and woof our songs to the skies.

I sidled up to Hound’s Hotdogs, a remnant of our past indulgences. The smells therein were reminiscent of better times—better, not because they were inherently so, but because they were familiar. In the heart of this desolation, I gathered with my motley crew, Sassy and Ivy among them. We shared stories of our once-upon-a-time humans and the lives we led, lives brimming with tugs-of-war and lake ripples.

Presently, as the leader of our pack, I ventured forth a proposition. “What say we, dear friends,” I addressed the assembly with what I fancied diplomatic grace, “to start anew, to weave the threads of our destinies into this tapestry of a transformed Pawsburgh? Mayhap we could arrange contests of strength at Fetch! Toys and Treats, or gaze upon the beauty that remains at The Furry Friends Art Gallery.”

The cacophony of yips and barks that erupted was assuring, I might add, quite heartwarming. And so, our works began. We carved out from the remnants of humanity a society that bore our pawprints.

Time, that fickle trickster, trickled tediously as we patched Pawsburgh together. It was not without its perils—oh, bigger dogs with even bigger egos—but with every challenge surmounted, our steadfast spirit grew stouter.

One day, whilst sniffing about in Jade Jack Russell Junction, I found something queer. A vacuum, dormant and dusty, sitting like a dormant ogre in a nook. My heart raced with the wrath of ten hounds as memories of its growling maw came flooding back—a bête noire indeed!

Ivy, with a cock of her head, seemed to sense my unease. “Why, Sue,” she began in her quaint, husky tones, “thou art not still afraid of yon steel beast?”

To which I scoffed, a most indignant snort. “Afraid? The thing is merely off-putting.”

The atmosphere took a whimsical turn as my companions decided the contraption ought to become an art piece. We bedecked it with trinkets and baubles, and so, it stood—a tribute to our collective resilience.

Ah, paws and reflect, dear reader. Who would’ve thought that we, mere quadrupeds, could reclaim a world? Each day brims with nascent joys, each night wraps us in the silent solace of stars. And I, Sue Jangles, with my patchwork companions, stand testimony to the strength furled within a dog’s heart.

We thrive, not just because we must, but because the tenacity to do so is woven into the very marrows of our bones. In this once-human town, under the watchful gaze of Pawlympus, we’ve built Pawsburgh anew. And should the humans ever return, they’ll find it in paws as capable as any hand.

The End.

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