Hey there!

Just had a pawsitively enlightening day in Pawsburgh. Turned a leaf – didn’t chase squirrels, gave away my soccer ball, and skipped the triple sundae for a carrot twist! Learning about balance and discovering a more reflective side of this tail-wagger. Sometimes, a good bark in the mirror is all you need. 😄🐾

Tail wags and doggy smiles,
Pebbles

Oh, the doggy afterlife! Where every bark is a sonnet and every scratch a benediction. I’m Pebbles, Pawsburgh’s resident cosmopolitan—imagine if you will, a spectacular fluff of black and white zipping through the grand meadows of the ethereal realm, where fire hydrants are always available and no sofas are off-limits.

As the silver linings of dawn break over Pawsburgh, I awaken from a nap on cloud nine—or was it ten?—floating over Topaz Terrier Town. Usually, dreams of chasing rabbit-shaped clouds leave me refreshed, but this morning there’s a restlessness in my paws, a nagging desire to be more than just a pretty tail shake in the afterlife.

Let’s be real, it’s not like I’ve been a bad dog; I’ve always been more Mother Teresa than Cujo. But yesterday, the wise old owl, Hootles, perched on my windowsill, solemnly cooing about the Great Dog Park in the Sky, and how it’s not enough to just exist here; you’ve got to earn your extra biscuits.

I ventured to Pointer Pier, which today, felt like a boardwalk to enlightenment. Whispers of scents from Pom’s Pies danced around my nose—those blueberry concoctions that doggos speak of in hushed, reverent barks—but I skirted by robustly; today was about nourishing the soul, not the stomach.

My pals greeted me outside The Grooming Room. There’s Bowser the Bulldog with aspirations to be Best in Show—spiritually speaking—and Fifi, the Frenchie, chasing the elusive Zen of the perfect nap. We knew the stakes; chew better, chase with kindness, and lick life’s problems with the right attitude.

I rolled my ball with cavalier coolness across Samoyed Square. The unlikeliest of allies congregate here, yapping about our past life’s hijinks. My squad and I are like ‘The Breakfast Club’—if they were different breeds of dogs and in the afterlife noggin scrubs and belly rub caps were the currency.

“See that?” I nodded to an ornery-spirited squirrel as it dashed past. “I’d usually chase it, but positivity is my new leash on life.”

Fifi blinked. “But you love squirrels.”

I trotted on, the slight deflation in my ball echoing my new enlightenment. A good deed awaited, and I found it in Fetch! Toys and Treats—a lost pup looking more confused than a cat at a dog’s birthday party. I nudged my treasured soccer ball towards him. “Go on, kid. Every hound deserves happiness.”

At Pup’s Parfait, I declined the usual triple-topped, a sundae—a monument to self-improvement—opting for a simple carrot twist from Canine Café. My taste buds screamed mutiny, but my soul was a choir of Handel’s ‘Hallelujah’.

Bounding back through leafy lanes, I met my chipmunk friend. “Pebbles, you’re glowing like you swallowed a firefly,” he chittered.

I paused, wondering if I missed the mark, relying too much on doing rather than being. Then, as if on cue, Lady, a wise old spaniel, trotted over. “It’s about balance, Pebbles,” she advised, “Like fetch—it’s about the throw as much as the catch.”

The sun dipped low, and twilights painted in masterstrokes across the sky. There’s still plenty to gnaw on, but as the stars winked into reality, I felt it—peace. The carrot in my belly was now less a bland necessity and more a testament to the journey.

In a world where everyone’s striving to be the pick of the litter, maybe it’s enough just to wag more and bark less. Looking at my reflection in a puddle of rainwater, I decided today was a pretty good day. Tail wagging, I thought, “Heck, who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?”

The End.

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