Hey buddy 🐾 just had quite the adventure! Stood snout-to-snout with Duke, the Lemon Hound, after he mauled my frisbee 😤 But, in a twist fit for a doggy drama, we ended up chasing tails and making peace. Even snagged him a lemon-scented disc and nabbed myself a spiffy new one 🌀. Every dog has it’s day, and today was mine! 🐶 Keep your paws crossed for quieter times – but not too quiet 😉.

Tail wags and dream chases,
Molly 🌼✨

I admit, there are days here in Green Meadows that roll by with the gentle rumble of a well-fed belly, but today, dear friends, was not one of those days. It was a day I learned that even a dog’s heart could harbor the hankering for a good old-fashioned reckoning.

The morning started as any other – Sam scratching the sweet spot behind my ears, the heady aroma of chicken wafting from my bowl. But the minute I set paw on the sunny patch in our front lawn, I knew; twas the day for an escapade to Pawsburgh where a certain mishap at The Doggy Depot would set my tail on an unexpected spin.

When I trotted into the magical town – listen, it works with a wink and a wag, alright – my first stop was Fetch! Toys and Treats. There was something amiss, a feeling in my jowls that I couldn’t quite place. And lo and behold, on reaching the fetchsticks aisle: chaos. Shattered bins, scattered chew bones, and amidst this doggy debris? My tattered blue frisbee, chewed beyond recognition!

Standing before the frisbee’s remains, I caught a mere whiff – lemon! My snout wrinkled in disgust at this familiar scent. I considered all suspects – Max with his sagacious snoozes? No. Energetic Zoe? Possibly, but then she preferred the scent of rabbit rather than citrus sabotage.

I knew this odor belonged to none other than Duke, the Lemon Hound, who had a pernickety palate for all things sour. An odd duck – er, dog, in a land known for its meaty treats and chicken-flavored dreams.

There was a needling itch in my paws akin to that of an unscratched ear, and I knew revenge would be my next fetch. It was off to Schnauzer Street, where I knew Duke to dwell.

I eschewed the delights of Collie’s Cuisine, ignored the beckoning bark of the Doggie Diner, and set forth to Blue Basenji Bay. There, between the cerulean waves and the sand dunes, Duke loved to play, his coat gleaming in the sun, his sour treats at paws.

I approached with the kind of stealth only mastered by a Pitt/Boxer of my calibre. Duke spotted me. His guilty tail ceased its wag and, for a moment, the only sound was the distant bark of a salesdog from The Pooch Playhouse.

“Molly!” Duke said, his tone sharper than a pup’s milk tooth. “I can explain!”

But dogs are dogs, and my wagging appendage had a mind of its own. “Explain away, Duke. But know this: you’ve chewed your last frisbee of mine.”

The confession tumbled from his jowls like a dropped treat; the poor soul was devoid of decent playthings, envious of my frisbee’s prestige. He asked for forgiveness, and there, by the bay, a plan unfurled in my mind.

Grudges, you see, fit poorly in a dog’s life. They take up too much room – room best filled with snoozes and chicken delights. “A lesson is owed,” I pondered aloud, and in the spirit of Terry Pratchett, let whimsy guide my revenge.

I led Duke back to The Doggy Depot, where we made amends by fetching him a frisbee of his own – a yellow one with an artificial lemon scent, which Duke inexplicably loved. And, with the cunning use of my soulful eyes on Sam, I secured a brand-new blue frisbee, even more glorious than the last.

The excitement of the day curled around me like a well-loved blanket. As night fell on Pawsburgh and Green Meadows alike, I recounted my tale of just desserts and newly built bridges to Sam who was none the wiser.

And in that sleepy little town, a dog’s spirit of adventure – and forgiveness – made life an escapade worth wagging about.

The End.

Share This Story: