Hey Mom,

Survived the first challenge on ‘Pet Island’ like a champ. Squirt and I conquered Diamond Doberman Dunes, and now we’re heroes munching on victory chow. Might win a year of spa days, but you know I’d trade that for a mountain of baby carrots. More crazy contests tomorrow. Wish me luck, and send carrots!

Paws and Reflect,
Turbo

Wow, I could use a nap. But first, let me tell you about the day when Pawsburgh went all “Survivor” on us. One moment, I’m munching a baby carrot — just blissed out on Vitamin A — and the next, we’re off to some deserted island for a competition that could only be cooked up by the feline-infiltrated minds at ‘Pet Island.’ But hey, I’m Turbo, and adventures are kind of my forte.

We arrive at Diamond Doberman Dunes, and the place is buzzing like a million bees at a honey convention. I hear there’s a challenge where we’ve got to hustle across a makeshift bridge and grab flags – like I don’t already do that in my sleep. I’m paired with Squirt, and she’s trembling like a lone leaf in a tornado. “We got this,” I tell her, though I’m secretly terrified that if there’s water down below, I’m going to morph into a four-legged chicken.

“Just pretend we are running across Cavalier Cove,” Squirt yips at me, her voice two octaves higher than usual. We make a run for it. Her tiny paws speed ahead as if she’s got rockets strapped on them. I follow, trying not to show that my own paws have turned into jelly.

As we race back with our flags, my legs feel lighter, and it wasn’t because I was suddenly on a diet. I glance over at Jade Jack Russell Junction where Sissy’s waving like she’s trying to flag down a UFO. We did it! We earned the first place in the first challenge! Squirt and I do our version of a high-five, which is basically just us hopping around ecstatically.

Post-victory, we meet at Barking Brunch – a spot that’s like home away from home – for some celebration chow. I’m so proud, I could strut like a peacock if I wouldn’t look totally ridiculous. We’re nibbling on Paw-tisserie delicacies shaped like little life-vests. It’s cute and all, but all I’m thinking about is — yup — baby carrots.

“You were amazing out there,” says Willie, who’s totally not your typical cat and — believe it or not — one of my best buds. “I bet you could give dogs a good name on ‘Pet Island.’ Make us look refined, like we don’t just drink out of the toilet for fun.”

Speaking of fun, it’s time for the evening’s shindig at Chowhound’s Chophouse. I tell you, the mood was electric, the steaks — I’ve been told — were succulent, but this daring dog is all about the simple life, remember? So, as the party roars, I head out to my secret spot to watch the sunset. The sky blazes fiery oranges and purples – it’s like my very being is painted across the heavens.

So, what’s the ultimate prize, you ask? Well, The Dapper Dog Salon is offering a year’s worth of spa days – which, for a dog whose idea of a bath is a mud puddle, is as appealing as a bowl full of lettuce. But maybe I can trade my winnings for a lifetime supply of baby carrots and a platinum-edition Orange baby chew toy!

The next challenge is tomorrow. I’ve got to engage in stealth mode against Trailblazing Tabbies or some such nonsense. Who dreams up these things? A part of me wishes for a dog-day afternoon, lounging in soft grass. But the bigger part? It’s all revved up and ready for whatever wild antics Pawsburgh has in store.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, the stars are blinking on and I’ve got some really important daydreaming to do about victory, baby carrots, and my next escapade. Because after all, this is my tail — I mean, tale — and in Pawsburgh, every dog has his day. Or, you know, just me. Because, Turbo.

The End.