Hey, it’s Preach. Just a quick tail wag to say I’ve become the captain of comedy and courage on Basenji Bay. With my ball, a tenacious lab, a spirited spaniel, and a royal feline, we’re sniffing out survival and aiming for a triumphant trot home. The adventure is as wild as a squirrel chase, but with this pack’s pluck and my rascally charm, we’re about to turn this into a barktastic tale. Stay pawsitive! 🐾✨ #CaptainPreacher

I’ve gotta tell you, no amount of careful squirrels or flitting breezes could’ve prepared me for the day Gus, Zelda, and I found ourselves marooned on Basenji Bay. It’s one of those blink-and-you-miss-the-magical-portal moments. One second, you’re chasing your tail at Dog’s Delicacies, and the next, you’re doing your best Robinson Crusoe impersonation, sans the stylish headwear. Obviously, my tennis ball was with me—loyal in escape as it was in chase.

So, here we were, a boxer (yours truly), a labrador, a spaniel, and, okay, don’t tell her I admitted this, but a smugly omnipresent Persian cat intelligence, known as Duchess — cause, you know, Duchess finds *everything* entertaining. There wasn’t a human in sight, and the only thing more absent than Jamie’s reassuring pats was a sign saying, “This way back to Pawsburg.”

I decided to take charge — courage and comedy are my thing, remember? “Alright crew,” I began, and Zelda immediately perked up, sensing a game. “We’re not on vacation. This is Survival 101. Step one: Establish the basics, and step two: Find our way home before Jamie thinks I’ve eloped with a squirrel.”

Gus, in his “I’ve-seen-it-all” Labrador drawl, chimed in, “This isn’t exactly Dachshund Dale, Preach. How do you suggest we start?”

We were wanderers but not lost – thank my perceptive eyes for that. I led us to Snout Snacks — because let’s face it, even the Cast Away guy prioritized food. “Chicken strips?” I suggested hopefully while eyeing the barren counters. The only response was Zeus-like thunder cracking in the distance, and as if on cue, I duck-ran for cover under a palm tree.

Zelda, bless her Spaniel soul, hadn’t given up on playtime. “Hey, maybe we can find a tennis racket and see your fancy footwork here, Preacher!” she teased, watching me dribble my beloved ball with the finesse of a canine Ronaldo.

Then Duchess, sleek fur unfazed by the tropical humidity, meowed with aristocratic calmness. “In case you hounds have forgotten, surviving includes shelter.” Oh, right. That wasn’t a cheese cube accidentally tossed her way; that was a mic drop.

We canvassed Basenji Bay, our paws moving rhythmically in the sand, hitting every landmark: the Spa for Paws (closed, sigh), The Pawfect Training Center (irony anyone?), and stumbled on Woof and Whisker Wellness Center, finally discovering something useful: a first aid kit. Cause you know, if anybody sprains a paw…

That night, as we huddled in our makeshift shelter — an architectural masterpiece, if you squint — I considered our predicament. Gus was sharing his umpteenth ‘when I was young’ story, Zelda, ears twitching, was halfway between dreams of chasing seagulls, and Duchess…the Duchess was pretending to be independent, per usual.

It dawned on me; we were a team. So I got my brave on. “Guys,” I barked softly, “we’re gonna survive this. We’re going to band our furry butts together and with a solid game plan, tail wags, and a boatload of that can-do doggy attitude, we’ll sail right back into Pawsburg.”

Maybe it was the moonlight or the absurdity of hope in a dog-eat-dog world, but I like to think it was my rascally charm when I saw a flicker of unity in their eyes.

There we were, the castaways of Pawsburg, poised for an adventure that smelled suspiciously like wet dog fur and determination. I might not have had my human’s reassuring scratches, but I had courage, a crew, and an escapade that could only be described as ‘barktastic’. And if tomorrow came with its own set of squirrel-sized challenges? Well, I’d chase them just as I did my tail—optimistic, headstrong, and ready for a belly laugh…or perhaps, another belly rub wrestling match with fate.

The End.