Yo Dad, it’s Hercules (aka Teddy Bear when you’re feeling sappy). Today was epic! Pawsburgh called, I answered – swam like an Olympian, munched Paws pastries, kabobs, and sniffed history with the gang. Drifted into old memories, DIY-ed at the Husky store – all while missing my human. Got tails to bark when you’re back. Catch ya on the fluff side! 🐾😎🦴 #BulldogOdyssey

Ah, the life of Hercules—do not mistake me for the ancient hero for I’m a bulldog, though I wouldn’t mind if someone threw a golden fleece chew toy my way. My tail’s tale today brings us to the riveting roads of Pawsburgh where a dog can be a dog, and I can be the Hercules of my own odyssey.

So, there I was on the soft couch, the familiar comfort of home now a memory in my rearview mirror. Dad had left on one of his adventures without me, you see. And as every canine knows, Pawsburgh beckons in the absence of humans.

Our journey began when dawn barely winked at the sky. I rolled off my cushioned throne, shook off the cobwebs of sleep, and summoned my trusty companions: Margaux, with her elegance and airs; Tank, the embodiment of a boisterous escape; and Baker, a jolly fellow with a tail that never ceased its story-telling wagging.

“Do you have the map, Herc?” Tank barked.

“Who needs maps,” I snorted, “when we have instinct, valor, and a nose for fun?”

First stop was Shar-Pei Shores. Y’see, my muscles aren’t just for show—I’m quite the swimmer. Margaux opted for a dainty paddle, while Tank dove like a hippo causing a ruckus. Baker? Well, he just ran along the shore, barking encouragement. Perhaps it was here that I considered the sea as an alternate vehicle for our adventure. Boats seemed unnecessary; my breaststroke could rival that of any canine paddler.

But, alas, on to Basenji Bay we trekked, where no dog could resist the siren call of Pawfect Pastries. It was a feast, my friends. As I bit into a steak-topped donut – oh, the audacious creation – I might have heard the clouds parting.

Resisting the lull of a post-meal nap was rough, I’ll tell you. The wind was a lullaby as Baker led the way to Canine Kabobs for second lunch, or was it early dinner? Time flows differently when the belly calls.

Baker is a talker. “Remember that time, Herc?” he’d ask, then answer his own questions with the eagerness of a pup finding his first bone. He’s got a point though; Pawsburgh stores memories in every scent, every flavor.

Fuelled by kabobs, we aimed for Eskimo Estuary. I gave Baker a look. “For old times’ sake?” No contest there. We let nostalgia guide us, remembering the car rides, the windows down, ears flapping, world a blur of excitement and serene chaos.

The Howling Husky Hardware Store popped up on our route, so we stopped to pick up something or other—Tank had some DIY project he wouldn’t shut up about. He’s a dreamer, that one. Loves the idea of building things as much as he loves knocking ‘em down.

And yet, the best part of our journey? The camaraderie. That feeling of wind and whimsy that comes from being with your pack, shared tales, shared meals, shared silence.

But as the sun tipped its hat in farewell, and Pawsburgh’s magic waned with the distance from our human’s empty home, the echo of our laughter still rang in my ears. We didn’t find the treasures of Colchis, but who needs ’em when you’ve got chewy keys, right?

So, as I made my way back to my guarded sanctuary, the heroic tales of our ‘road trip’ began to take form. And dad, upon his return, would hear the epic of Hercules and his canine companions—loyal, fierce, and ever ready for the next quest.

Until tomorrow, Pawsburgh—and remember, the adventure is always in the journey, not the destination.

The End.