Hey fam! 🐾

Just wanted to let you know that I’m out here in the supernatural Pawsburgh being the posh poodle protagonist of our tale. Chasing ‘better’ has taken me from the pristine waters of Spaniel Springs to late-night pizza escapades at Pooch’s Pizzeria. I’ve discovered it’s not about being paw-perfect but finding joy in the mishaps and love in our afterlife escapades. Remember, it’s all about the journey! 🐩✨

Keep wagging,
Maya

In my spectral Pawsburgh – where the hydrants never rust and the mailmen are friends, not foes – I found myself astir with ambition. Yes, even with my curls impeccably coiffed and my aura polished within an inch of its life, I, Maya, endeavored to be better. Not a paw out of place, this Toy Poodle sought the sort of enlightenment only whispered about in the narrow alleys of Bichon Boulevard.

I must confess, running through the ethereal Spaniel Springs – where the water shimmered with a promise of everlasting freshness – a pang of guilt would at times pierce my conscience. Oh, the irony! Embarking on a quest to be the epitome of canine virtue, yet my most decadent delights were chicken strips from Mastiff’s Meals. They all but melted in my mouth, the tender savory embrace eclipsing any leafy virtue. Let’s not even mention the sweet potato bites – an indulgence worthy of my regal status.

One might wonder what a near-perfect poodle princess would need to atone for. Well, dear reader, it’s not the atonement that stirs the soul, but the pursuit of excellence. With Bella and Duke at my side, we danced around the notion of ‘better’. Duke often mused that ‘better’ was a good stick – sturdy, yet yielding. Bella, always the realist, said ‘better’ was not getting caught rummaging through the garbage. My dear friends – delightfully simple creatures.

One dusk, we found ourselves on a caper near Pyrenean Peak, our silhouettes cast long and heroic against the cobblestone. Our mission? To savor the forbidden: a late-night fiesta at Pooch’s Pizzeria, because what’s a little afterlife sin between friends? The sauce was tangy yet sweet – a culinary Mozart symphony tailor-made for canine palates. The stars twinkled with a complicit wink. I pondered if perhaps ‘better’ did not lie in aesthetics or accolades but in the mishaps we navigated, the compassion we cultivated among the living and the departed.

For you see, ‘better’ is a quest without end. It tickled my insides, much like the harshness of citrus, which, by the way, had no place in my post-earthly diet. It made no sense – just as it made little sense to obliterate the tumbling acrobatics of squirrels at Happy Hounds Dog Walking. ‘Better’ was poignant, like the memory of rain – a sensation I’d rather not entertain, now or then. The slickness upon my fur was to be avoided, for how does a dog maintain a celestial visage with fur plastered to one’s frame?

It was during a sojourn in The Wagging Tail Bookstore, nestled amidst the newest treatises on bone-burying techniques and the classic ‘To Bark or Not to Bark’, I experienced a moment of pristine clarity. ‘Better’ did not mean renouncing my beloved vices or whimsies. Nor was it to traverse an afterlife with impeccably dry paws. It entailed sharing tales of love and life, of chewed slippers and chases after one’s own tail, which, in turn, orchestrated a cosmic giggle among us departed.

These tales, dubbed with laughter, with joy, with the occasional ‘oops’ – they sculpted us. We were the weavers of our tapestry. Each thread was a story, a lesson, a moment. And so, I would counsel any young pup aspiring to ‘better’, living or deceased:

Better is the journey, not the destination. Better to have howled at the moon and danced amidst shadows, even if you trip on your paws. For it’s in these moments, we find the essence of our doghood, the purest version of our heart and a little corner in Pawsburgh where we are already the very ‘better’ we sought after.

The End.

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