Hey Mom,

You would have been so proud—I channeled my inner good girl today in Pawsburgh by loaning Roxie some bones for a bandana! Plus, I soaked up some old dog wisdom over pasta, realizing good intentions trump all. Oh, and I decided to scrap the interest rates – seems my heart’s too big for my wallet. Pawsburgh adventures have me honing my do-gooder skills, and I can’t wait to tell you more!

Big licks and chicken-flavored dreams,
Ellie Mae 🐾💕

One dawn, when the night sky coughed up the first spittle of sunlight and humans’ snores still filled the air, I found myself padding along the marble pathways of Pawsburgh. Let me tell you something about morning in Pawsburgh—it’s like sniffing into a fresh bag of chicken treats, but for your soul. Not that I’m against the treats, notably the savory chicken kind that crumble… oh, what was I saying? Right! Pawsburgh mornings!

Wagging my tail with the grace of a metronome at a piano maestro’s recital, I zigzagged through Crescent Park dodging the professional squirrel taunters and the amateur stick gatherers. But let’s be clear, I wasn’t there for the view or to show off my impeccable puppy cut. I was on a mission—a mission to be the very best, like no one ever was.

You see, in Pawsburgh, being ‘good’ is the goal, and while I’ve mastered the sit-and-stay, the art of ‘stay-and-sit’ is a beast of a different breed. Figuratively speaking, ’cause we’re all dogs here. So together with my trusty companions, Bella, Roxie, and wise old Sam, I was determined to up my goodness game by helping a pal in the most magical way.

The Quartz Qimmiq Quarter was abuzz with excitement, or maybe it was just the caffeine brewing at The Canine Café—but who can really tell the difference? We trotted into Canine Couture Clothing where Roxie had her eye on a tasteful yet functional bandana. But disaster struck—Roxie’s gloriously thick wallet was at home! You could literally hear the theme music to a reality TV show being cued up.

So I did what any aspiring good girl would do. I loaned her some bones—at a modest interest rate, of course. You have to keep the economy flowing; I believe that’s what the wise humans say. Mission partially accomplished!

Feeling emboldened by my act of generosity, we all decided to brunch at Poodle’s Pasta ’cause nothing says ‘morning’ like carbs. No citrus dressing for this pooch, though—the mere scent and I’m gone faster than the last bacon bit at a doggie birthday party.

I was raving about the pesto—chicken flavored (what else?)—when Sam, dear Sam, who’s seen more seasons change than any tree in the park, mentioned something that hit me like a chew toy to the face. He said, “Ellie Mae, being good is more than actions, it’s the intentions behind them.”

Whoa. That was so deep, I needed a doggie paddle to get back to the surface.

I lay my head on my paws right there between the pumpkin gnocchi and the spaghetti a la retriever, contemplating Sam’s wisdom. My mind was a Ferris wheel spinning with thoughts about canine morality and metaphysical stick-throwing.

The sun began its lazy descent, like a dog settling into its fifth nap of the day, and I looked around at my besties, thinking of all the joy and minor destruction we’ve caused. And it hit me—I love these pups, and I’d share my last chicken treat with them—not the citrus ones, though, those are all yours.

So I balked at the thought of charging interest on Roxie’s bandana loan—my fiscal policy needed a little tweaking. Maybe goodness really is about the heart behind the tail wag. I decided right then and there, I would only use my powers of persuasion for the noblest of causes, like getting extra treats or longer belly rubs.

Hmm, goodness sure feels good. Now if only I could find the chapter on self-control, especially around chicken-flavored anything.

The End.