Hey Dad, you won’t believe this – I’m an intergalactic ambassador in Pawsburgh now! Aliens showed up & somehow I’m negotiating peace with treats and belly rubs. Forget the park, we’re going universal! Keep the porch light on for me; gonna fetch us some alien anti-itch technology. 🚀🐾 – Albert

The sun was already setting on Pawsburgh as I, Albert, lumbered my way through the familiar canine-centric streets of Schnauzer Street. The pastel skies melded into the pink hues of Samoyed Square, where the tail-wagging populace usually gathers for an evening gab. Something was different tonight, though. An eerie silence had fallen upon the town, just as a peculiar shadow crept over Pom’s Pies, casting Fido’s Feast into a twilight gloom.

“Baker! Lil Rosie! Lilly!” I called out, expecting to see their merry muzzles at any moment. But alas, only the sound of my own bark, hollow and unanswered, filled the air. As my paws padded on the cobblestone, I chanced a glance upward.

There, against the fading light, loomed a monstrous, otherworldly silhouette that trundled through the sky. The chill on my fur wasn’t just from the evening’s descent. Spaceships! I couldn’t believe my bulbous eyes—an alien invasion in Pawsburgh! I thought of how these extraterrestrials had invaded the tales of pulp fiction, and now, somehow, our humble reality.

“Okay, Albert, deep breaths,” I mumbled, considering a tactical retreat to Collie’s Cuisine for a comforting nibble.

I pressed on toward The Pawfect Training Center, thinking perhaps I might find a cohort of braver dogs getting ready to defend our turf. Paw to paw, or rather claw to claw, we would face the galaxy’s baddies. And yet, the center was deserted—Even The Groom Room’s pink scissors had stopped snipping in mid-air. Was I…alone?

“A bulldog against an alien armada? That’d make one quirky headline,” I chuckled nervously to myself, channeling the humor of a man I once overheard on the television late one night. “Neil something-or-the-other. Pop liked him.”

My lonely chuckle died as I realized—Pop! In all the doggone chaos, I forgot about Dad. He’d need me, and I sure as the sun love that two-legged man. With all the courage I could muster, I set off, prepared to shield him with my broad chest from whatever extraterrestrial laser beams might come our way.

Every street felt longer than the last, every shadow a lurking alien. I clutched my precious Fin, the stuffed toy dangling from my mouth, now my beacon of bravery. It was him and I, against the unknown.

And then, the most peculiar thing happened—a sudden voice, all buzz and static, spoke from the hovering behemoth above. The universal translator at The Pawfect Training Center must be pulling some serious overtime.

“Dear Canines of Pawsburgh,” it buzzed, “fear not. We come in peace, searching for the wisdom of the elite canine mind. Our planet’s fate hangs in a delicate balance.”

I stopped, paws riveted to the ground. Elite canine mind? Albert the English Bulldog, a consultant to the stars? Dad always said I had a head full of marbles; now it was my time to let them roll.

My thoughts were frenzied. “Should I propose a galactic alliance? Or suggest a stellar game of fetch that crosses solar systems?”

“Wait,” I realized. I could just… talk to them. Alien diplomacy via common sense and a good dose of Pawsburgh charm.

As the ship descended, casting a light as warm as a sunbath in the park, I stood tall. “Alright, space critters, let’s set some ground rules,” I started, with all the gusto I could muster. “No abductions, no ray guns, and for the love of kibble, no shenanigans!”

I could have sworn I saw a celestial being tilt its head in the universal sign of understanding—or was it confusion? Either way, the dog days were definitely not over, and if an English Bulldog named Albert had anything to say about it, Pawsburgh would not only survive but might just become an intergalactic landmark.

“And, ah, do you have anything for the itch behind my ear? It’s a spot I just can’t seem to lick.” That would be my first act of alien relations. I always say, make peace not war—but never stop aiming for the itchy spots.

The End.