Hey Mom,

Guess what? Your furball Paloma turned interstellar ambassador last night! I rallied the canine crew and we saved Pawsburgh from aliens with a game of fetch. Remarkably, we all found common ground in the universal language of play. Who knew my bark was actually a peacemaker? The town’s still sleepy, oblivious to the cosmic capers. Hugs and slobbery kisses!

Toots 🐾✨👽

P.S. Don’t forget to keep the chicken coming. It’s been an exhausting night!

I’ve always known I had a big mouth – I suppose it’s part of my English Bulldog charm – but never did I imagine that one day, my distinctive bark would be the herald of an unbelievable tale. My name is Paloma, and this is the story of how I, along with my buddies Natty, Guinness, and Kahlua, saved Pawsburgh from the most unexpected visitors: aliens.

It was a usual evening at Setter Shore, the golden glow of the sun was surrendering to the velvet drape of twilight, and the water lapped at the shore with a rhythmic dedication. My trio of friends and I were lazily exchanging stories about our human’s odd habits. Just as Natty was getting to the good part about his human walking into a room and forgetting why, the sky twisted.

Ribbons of green and blue danced across the stars, which I would’ve admired, had they not been followed by a bizarre whirring noise that grew louder with every passing moment. Not the vacuum cleaner again, I thought, my heart plummeting. I longed to sprint back to Barking Brunch, hide under the table where the sticky scent of barbecued ribs might comfort me. But my paws stood frozen, as did my friends’, as we gazed upward, watching the sky split open to reveal a descending ship that didn’t belong to any airline I’d ever seen.

Now, if there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I’m not one for heroics; I’m more the type to debate the fanciness of a chew toy at The Fetching Feline Pet Emporium. But as the extraterrestrial ship softly landed on the fine sands of Setter Shore, and small, peculiar beings emerged, I felt something stir inside of me. A growl bubbled up from my throat, resonating more mysterious than ever. The aliens stopped, regarding me with blinking lights that I assumed were their eyes.

“Paloma, what are you doing?” Guinness hissed. But I pressed on.

“Listen, I might be loathed to face the ominous growl of a vacuum, and dread the clatter of a thunderstorm, but there’s no way I’m letting these…these Martians, or whatever they are, take over our Pawsburgh,” I declared, surprising even myself with my assertiveness.

With my friends at my back, we faced the alien creatures. Their tendrils reached out, waving instruments that could turn the Big Bone sculpture at Quartz Qimmiq Quarter into doggy daycare disaster if we weren’t careful.

“Look,” I growled, trying to channel that Nora Ephron-esque blend of show-no-fear-and-wit, “this is a peaceful town for dogs. We nap, we chase, we dream of chicken that falls from the sky, not…whatever it is you do.”

To my astonishment, the aliens chirped, and a device around what I assumed was their leader’s neck translated: “We seek only play and understanding.”

My bark turned into laughter. Of course. We had more in common than we knew. Understanding could be reached – not necessarily over a meal at Canine Cafe, because I wasn’t going to watch them ignore green beans – but with a good old-fashioned game of fetch.

And so we played under the astonishing cosmic light show, teaching these otherworldly visitors the simple joys of Pawsburgh: laughter, loyalty, and the art of a well-timed tug-of-war. When dawn crept up, brushing the stars aside and casting a warm, fawn light, very much like my face, across the town, the aliens bid us farewell, promising to return for another round or perhaps to browse The Wagging Tail Bookstore.

My friends marvelled at the night’s odd adventure. Gosh, wait until my human hears about this! I couldn’t help but bark in glee, imagining how that conversation would go.

But, as always, I kept that tale to myself, letting them wonder why my bark was so very resonant that morning as they drowsily filled my bowl with chicken, none the wiser to the incredible escapade that had unfolded. Perhaps it’s true what they say – every dog has its day. And mine? Well, mine was simply out of this world.

The End.