Hey Dad,

Guess what? I played diplomat with aliens today! Skipped breakfast to stop a UFO kerfuffle with my squeaky ball. Ended up hosting an intergalactic dance party instead of a showdown. Pawsburgh is safe, and I’m now an ambassador of tail wags and squeaks! – Bella 🐾✨👽

Sent from my paws using TappyText.

Lemme tell ya ‘bout somethin’ peculiar that happened one sparklin’ morn in Pawsburgh. I, Bella, the noblest of hounds, found myself wakin’ up not to the familiar chirrupin’ of the birds but to a hum—a reverberatin’ sorta buzz that set my ears to twitchin’. It was the day the sky turned a funny shade of pea soup, and the air smelt like thunderous excitement.

There I stood on Whippet Way, my ol’ heart skippin’ beats like a puppy chasin’ its tail, my blue and white fur standin’ on end. I watched in disbelief as odd silvery things hovered over Cocker Courtyard. Yessiree, them metallic discs just hangin’ in the sky like they owned the place! Did my pals see what I was a-seein’? Didn’t seem likely, not with ’em frolicin’ about, tails waggin’, without a care in this world or the next.

I trotted toward the commotion, half-expectin’ to wake any minute and tell my human ’bout this fine kettle of fish—a dream, surely. But no, as I turned the corner past Spa for Paws, which I favor on account of their divine mud massages, I stumbled right into a ragtag buncha dogs all starin’ up, mouths agape.

By the growl of my belly, it was already past breakfast time, somethin’ I’d have usually spent at Fido’s Feast, downin’ a bowl of somethin’ sav’ry. But today, breakfast had to wait. There were stranger matters afoot—a dad-blamed alien invasion disruptin’ the peace of our doggone utopia!

“Them aliens come to take our bones?” Jack, my terrier friend, chimed in next to me, his eyes round as the wheels on a chuck wagon.

“Naw,” I said, more to soothe his jittery nerves than outta conviction. “Prob’ly just here to enjoy Rottweiler’s Ribs, just like any civilized bein’ would.” But truth be told, it sent shivers down my spine, those discs, silent and calculatin’.

The sky critters descended, all green skin and jittery antennae, and Pawsburgh gathered ’round, nosin’ curiously but polite, mind ya. We dogs ain’t never rude, not even to extraterrestrial newcomers. They babbled in clicks and whirrs, not unlike the old vacuum cleaner back home I took such a dislikin’ to.

But I’m no coward, I’ll tell ya that. I stepped forward, wagged my tail in the universal language of Howdy-doo, and offered up my favorite squeaky ball as a sign of peace. Much to my shock, they took a likin’ to the squeak, looked at me with what-passed-for their eyes, and they squeaked it right back!

Ya should’ve seen it! Them green visitors began to squeak along with all the dogs of Pawsburgh, and whataya know, we made music, a symphony of otherworldy hoots and canine toots. The sound of it danced ’round the ol’ Spaniel Springs, and wouldn’t ya know it, the aliens’ shiny crafts started bobbin’ along like leaves in a breeze.

That day, those space critters didn’t come for conquest but for communion, to the delight of us all in Pawsburgh. Well, all except the one grumpy Schnauzer from Doggy Depot who’s always had a bead on bein’ cantankerous.

For a time, Whippet Way, Cocker Courtyard, and every path and byway of Pawsburgh swayed and swooshed to the grand hullabaloo we’d conjured—a jamboree that’d make the stars themselves wag in wonder.

When the critters eventually took off, back to the glitt’rin’ vastness of the cosmos, the folk of Pawsburgh—myself included—knew we’d had our adventure, our very own close encounter of the furry kind. And oh, when I spun the tale for my human, with much waggin’ and leapin’, he just patted my head, chucklin’ and callin’ me good girl.

Yet I remember the hum of those discs and the shimmy of green bodies dancin’. Remember it well, as sure as my name’s Bella and Pawsburgh’s my home, where every dog has its day, even against the backdrop of an invadin’ otherworldly fray.

The End.