Hey hooman 🐾 Guess who leapt over moon-sized hurdles at the Doglympics today & snatched the golden bone trophy? Yep, your couch snoozer Oogie turned star athlete in Pawsburgh! Shhh, it’s our little secret 😉 Now it’s time for carrot victory chomps and sweet potato dreams. Tail wags till our next adventure! 🏅🦴🐶 – Couch Potato Champ

Listen: I scampered into Pawsburgh under the cover of a star-scratched sky, which is a fancy way of saying it was night and I was off to a secret life my human knew nothing about. That’s the deal with Pawsburgh; it’s a canine utopia, and frankly, it’s where I’m a bit of a local sports hero. My name is Oogie, and I’ll tell you about the day I shot to fame in the Doglympics held at the fabled Pyrenean Peak.

So it goes, the Doglympics are more than a game in Pawsburgh. They’re a spectacle—a fete of fur and frenzied tail wagging, where we dogs strut our stuff with the agility of gazelles and the grace of swans, or at least as close as dogs can get to that which is not natural for dogs to do.

But there I was, on the morning of the games, stretched out on the living room rug basking in the golden hour, my limbs sprawled and my snores echoing Jamie’s ticking clock. My dragon toy lay beside me, both of us dreaming of victories in silent reverie.

In a blink, I found myself standing at Newfoundland Nook. This is where it happens—it’s where I transform from Jamie’s brindle-coated couch potato to Oogie, the prodigious parkour pooch of Pawsburgh. I greeted my friends: Benny with his moon-chasing howl and Sasha with her spellcasting prance. Comrades in every caper, sidekicks in every scrape.

It was the hurdle race we were set for—a harrowing dash over barriers that tested sinew and soul. You see, in Pawsburgh, these aren’t your garden-variety hurdles. They’re crafted from the tallest tales and the stoutest of dreams. The crowds gathered—you could taste the excitement, or maybe it was just the aroma wafting from Pom’s Pies.

I sauntered towards the starting line. Benny nudged me, “You’ve got that look, Oogie. The one that means business or a bout of stubbornness.” He wasn’t wrong. Stubbornness is my middle name—well, not officially; dogs don’t go in much for middle names.

The starting howl sounded, and I, along with a flurry of fur, shot forth in pursuit of glory. The first hurdle, easy. The second, a breeze. But on the third, a high-flying Golden Retriever caught my eye. She soared as if she had wings—maybe she cheated, maybe not; one couldn’t really tell in Pawsburgh.

We sprinted neck to neck, hurdle to hurdle, breeze to bound. I could hear Sasha’s cheers, Benny’s howls, and above it all, the sound of my own breath mixed with the pitter-patter of paws against the earth.

The final hurdle approached, and as if caught by a mischievous wind, it grew in size—this was not part of the plan. The Retriever hesitated. But I didn’t. There’s something about basking in the sun that teaches you about taking leaps—about warmth and trust and the kind of stubborn loyalty a body feels to its own spirit.

I vaulted with all the might my stubby, muscular legs could muster. I flew, and it’s not often a French bulldog can claim that. Over the hurdle, through the air, and then the thud of a perfect landing. I didn’t just clear it; I owned it.

There was a racket of cheers, a cacophony of canines barking up their acclaim as I dashed over the finish line. The Retriever was a paw-step behind—a fine sport, by the way. We barked in good nature, vowed to race again—a lie, a beautiful lie that athletes tell.

As the twilight of victory gave way to the quiet night, I returned home to my Jamie, who never suspected a thing. I lay my trophy—the golden bone—beside my ancient, silent dragon. Carrots and sweet potatoes for a celebratory feast—Citrus, as always, strictly verboten.

So it goes in Pawsburgh, where dogs dare to dream and french bulldogs, with ears like sails, can win the day. And I, Oogie, lived to race another day, to bask in another golden hour, whiskers twitching with the anticipation of more magical adventures, recounted here just for you.

The End.