- Dog Tales
- February 12, 2024
Bark and Bite: The Unwitting Hero of Pawsburgh: A Gotti PawWord Story
Hey Mom,
In the twilight tangle of Pawsburgh, I faced fears with fur on end and emerged a night-trotting hero, not by chance, but by canine courage! Shadows retreated, pals freed, a tale to be howled across the moonlit roofs. Who knew your Gotti had it in him to turn tails of terror into dawn’s daring deeds? 🐾
Your unexpected guardian of the night,
Gotti 🌕🐶
It was just past the witching hour in Pawsburgh—the sort of time that gives shivers to the fur. The sort of time your bones know something that your mind doesn’t want to admit. And Gotti, that’s me, I was restless, trotting under a moon that hung heavy in the sky like a great, glowering eye.
You know, I’ll chase a ball into oblivion, I’ll wrestle with shadows till my tongue lolls out sideways, but tonight the air tasted different, thick with the scent of fright. Shadows clung a bit too desperately to the walls of Shar-Pei Shores, and something whispered with the wind.
They’d tell you Pawsburgh is for play, for frolic, but tonight it whispered tales of tails tucked tight. I wandered, paws padding against the cobbled streets, the white blaze on my face a ghostly navigator amidst the dark. By the time I reached Beagle Bagels, the windows shuttered and lightless, a chill gripped my spine. Where was the laughter of my kin? The merry yaps? Gone, drifted away with the mists that now curled through Amber Akita Alley.
“What’s this then?” I muttered to myself in an unsteady growl. I wasn’t afraid. No, no—just watchful, acutely aware that the Rottweiler Ridge was watching me back, its looming silhouette too still, too silent.
The Pawsome Pet Pharmacy’s sign creaked a dreadful serenade as I passed by. And up ahead, oh, the fur stood up on my neck… The Snooty Snout Boutique, once the purveyor of vain displays and frivolous hats, now held a beacon of dread behind its glass. I approached, tentative, the paws I often prided for their strength reluctant.
Inside, creatures lurked, figures stitched together from shadows and the forgotten dreams of dog beds un-slept in. They turned, yellow eyes narrowing. “Gotti,” they hissed, and the air vibrated with my name as if it was a curse.
My heartbeat was a drum beat too loud in my ears, and I took an involuntary step back. I ain’t no chicken, see, but no hero either. This was different. This was wrong. It was then I saw it, the cause of this unhinged eve—a figure towering above the rest, shrouded, dealing with dark magic that leaked like tendrils of smoke from its form.
I turned tail, ran back towards what I hoped would be the familiar sands of Shar-Pei Shores, but with every step, the ground seemed to slip further away. Each street corner turned into another, an endless loop of taunting escape.
Out of breath and out of hope, I stopped, a growl buried deep in my throat. “Come on then!” I barked. But bravery or madness, it mattered little when faced with the supernatural yoke that clung to me.
Muffled barks caught my attention then—my Pawsburgh fellows, trapped in a charm of darkness beyond the Rottweiler Ridge. My kingdom called, my friends beckoned. I had to act, even if the sands were shifting, or face the loneliness that clawed at my heart.
With a thrust of will, I charged, my own shadow a dark comet against the cobblestones, my white strip a streak of daring amidst the overwhelm of night. I reached the dread figure, and with a ferocity I never knew I had, I leaped, fangs bared, ready to bite through the shroud of our fears.
There was a cacophony, a shattering of night and then silence—a heavy, blanketing quiet. I stood there, panting, tail stiff and proud, and watched as light spilled once again over Pawsburgh.
My friends emerged, rubbing sleepy eyes, yawning and stretching. The morning sun kissed the horizon, unaware of the horrors we faced. Unaware of the valor of one blue Pitbull named Gotti who guarded us through the night.
We trotted home, our tails high, our spirits lifted, the fears snuffed out with the dawn. But deep inside, every claw-tap a sign of my heart, I knew that Pawsburgh was more than just a playground—it was a land of shadows and tales, a place I defended, with my bark and my bite and the bravery of an unwitting hero whose tale would be whispered in murmurings of the night.
The End.
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