Hey Mom,

Just wrapped up another whirlwind day at The Furtune 500. I dazzled on camera, schooled pups on corporate play, and mastered the meeting room like a pro. Think of me as the Jim Halpert of dogs, if he had a tail to tell his tale. Remember Max’s line about the fight in the dog? Lived it. Saving Pawsburgh one wag at a time. Now to unwind and prep for more adventures. Tails up!

Your dashing Kilo Smilo 🐾✨

It was just another day at The Furtune 500, the most prestigious corporate kennel at the heart of Pawsburgh, where the stakes were high and the water bowls were always full. You know me — Kilo, the American Bully with that ghostly sheen. Fact: I’ve got the charm of Marley with the street smarts of Lassie.

The office was a buzz with the scent of freshly grilled chicken wafting from Golden Grub’s newest outpost in our lobby (a gastronomic genius move). I trotted along Whippet Way with my head held high, the cool autumn breeze sending a confetti of leaves into a dance just for me. Ah, the delight of being me.

I snickered as I passed Bloodhound Bluffs — such drama over there. The Newfoundland Nook was bustling with big boys, but it’s not how big your bark is, it’s how you wag your tale, right? That’s something Michael Scott could never have penned down on his Dunder Mifflin paper.

Entering The Furtune 500, camera crews were set; this place turned you into a star faster than you can say ‘treat’. I’ve garnered my own fan club among them, regarding me as the Jim Halpert of the pack. The camera loved me, and why wouldn’t it? I flashed a look at the lens that had ‘multiple re-watches’ written all over it.

“Luna! Catch this,” I announced, tossing a squeaky rubber ball across the corridor.

She leapt with the grace of a dolphin, her ears like sails in the wind, before crashing into a heap of shredded documents — what a receptionist. I could almost hear the mockumentary-style laughter track in the background.

Rewind to this morning, pre-filming hijinks: Max, that wise old Golden, was doling out advice by the Pawsitively Purrfect Pet Store. He’s like the canine version of Gandalf if Gandalf were more into belly rubs and less into wizard staffs.

“Kilo, my lad, remember that it’s not the size of the dog in the fight,” Max’s sagely bark rumbled.

I nodded, “…but the size of the fight in the dog. You’ve mentioned it, Max.”

“We’ve been over this,” he chuckled, his tail thumping rhythmically. “Still, I know a star when I see one, and you’re it, kiddo.”

Back to the present, I waltzed into the meeting room with a humble swagger. True, every dog here had its day, but in Pawsburgh, I was on a streak.

Our boss, a Shar-Pei with more wrinkles than corporate red-tape, called the meeting to attention with a squeaky toy gavel. I’d regale tales of my victories, but Linda from HR would say I’m glorifying ‘inter-departmental rivalries’ again.

“Now, team, let’s focus on synergy…”

Marcie, the Boxer from accounting, had that look — the ‘I’ve chewed up the quarterly reports’ look. I’d bet my best ball she was going to have a very interesting episode.

“And item four on the agenda,” I interjected, facing the camera in a mock whisper, “is discussing how to make the lemon slice a punishable offense — those things are a trap!”

The room erupted in barks of agreement, except from Gary, the Pointer, who apparently liked lemons. There’s always one.

The day was just a series of tail-wagging triumphs and lovable shenanigans. As I left the office, I glanced back at the logo – ‘The Furtune 500: Where Every Dog Has Its Play’.

All in a day’s work for this Ghost black tri Bully. Tonight, I’d return to Earth, a hero with a secret life. My human would ask about my day with a smile, and I’d look up with eyes full of stories I could never tell. Well, except through the ecstatic thumping of my tail and maybe a playful bark or two.

The End.