Hey Human,

Just wanted to update you on my secret life in Pawsburgh. I auditioned for a pet band with my howling aria and scored the lead! By day, I’m your cuddly Bear; by night, the rockstar of the K9 Conservatory. Can’t wait to serenade you with tales of my undercover stardom. Don’t tell the cats!

Catch you at curtain call,
Bear 🐾🎤

In the grand canine cornucopia that is Pawsburgh, I, Bear the Siberian Husky, found myself embroiled in an escapade that would make my human’s hair stand on end—if they knew. Ah, but what happens in Pawsburgh stays in Pawsburgh, unless, of course, it makes for a good yarn to share by the fireplace, with a scrumptious, savory treat to punctuate each chapter.

It all started on a crisp morning when I, having executed my masterful escape from the confines of my earthly residence, made a beeline for Sapphire Schnauzer Street with my light-up ball, the envy of every pooch in town. The street’s cobblestones sparkled like the namesake gem as I trotted past Pet Partners Pet Supplies, giving a courteous nod to the cocker spaniel manning the counter—she was a gossip, that one, but today I hadn’t the time.

You see, a rumor thicker than a bulldog’s neck had filled the air in Pawsburgh, whispered on every corner of Bloodhound Bluffs to Eskimo Estuary; the local school was forming a band, and they were scouting for talents. Now, I’ll have you know, my howl’s been likened to the most complex of arias (albeit by creatures who enjoy the sound of bin lids clashing), and so I couldn’t resist the pull of potential stardom.

I made a stop at The Pawsome Pet Pharmacy to clear my voice with a herbal concoction the pharmacist, a dapper dalmatian with a flair for the dramatic, guaranteed would have my vocal cords doing the samba. He wasn’t wrong. I was all set for the audition at the illustrious K9 Conservatory.

Upon arrival, the foyer was abuzz with the humming, barking, and yelping of hopefuls. Companions were omitted, because much like the unflavored cracker I’d often discount with disdain, friends needed no embellishment. Yet today, with my light-up ball, I drew a constellation of curious pupils, all eager to see what trinket had caught the capricious Bear’s fancy this time.

I shrugged off the attention—I had a voice to unleash, after all.

The audition was as bedlam as one might expect when the participants are covered in fur and routinely sniff each other in greeting. A beagle crooned notes that set my tail a-twirl, a poodle hammered a piano with a finesse Grohl would admire, and there was I, center stage under the weary gaze of the music teacher, a Border Collie who’d surely seen better days.

The piano’s first chord struck and Bear the husky, with light-up ball beneath one paw, unleashed a howl harmonious and hopeful, playful yet powerful. The hall resonated with my song, a melody befitting a Pet School Musical, an aria for an untamed spirit, synched to the flicker of a toy that knew the secret choreography of my heart. I sang of car-rides and cuddles, of the thrill of the chase and the sanctuary of the park—but above all, of my enthralling escapades.

As the last note faded and my heart ceased its race against my ribs, silence befell. All eyes—or should I say, eye patches, spectacles and, let’s not kid ourselves, backsides—were on me.

Then applause erupted like a wave of kibble cascading from an overturned dish.

And that was how I, Bear, became the howling heart of Pawsburgh’s Pet School Musical, a band of motley mutts making music like never before seen, hiding my limelight days under puppy-eyed looks by nightfall, waiting to be whisked away in dreams and stories told softly to my human, who suspects none of my encore-worthy exploits.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, the curtain rises, and the beat of my own drum summons.

The End.