Hey fam! 🐾 Frank the Tank here. Patched things up with Rufus over that gnome fiasco – we’re cool now, fur real. Had a moment: we’re more than just tail-chasing troublemakers; we’re family. Snapped a photo to mark the truce; I’ll show you when I get home. Spoiler: we look majestic. Now, dreaming of sardines & chicken after a day filled with love & adventure. Snuggles soon! 🐶💤
-Frank

You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had. I’m Frank, by the way. Yes, that Frank. The Bernese with the bark that sounds like a cello playing in the Alps – or so I’ve been told.

It was one of those mornings in Pawsburg where the sun cast a honeyed glow over Hound Heights, and I’d made up my mind to pay a visit to Chestnut Cocker Courtyard. See, yesterday, a tail wagging dispute broke out between my cousin Rufus and me. Over a toy gnome, would you believe? A misunderstanding really, but such things require a delicate paw to mend.

So there I was, wandering with all my long-haired dignity, my paws padding silently on the cobbled streets that snaked up to the Courtyard. Windows of The Pawsome Pet Pharmacy reflected the morning light like diamonds, and the scent of grilled treats wafted from Canine Kabobs, hitting my nostrils and nearly derailing my intentions for a brief moment.

The Courtyard was adorned in a dewy sparkle, and there under the copper beech, sat Rufus. He was munching contentedly on a Shepherd’s Shawarma, looking not a day over two, which is saying something as he’s pushing nine.

“Fancy seeing you here, Frank,” he said, without looking up.

“I came to talk, Rufus,” I replied, the words formal, my tongue slightly weighed down by the moment’s gravity. “About the gnome.”

He chomped another piece of shawarma, chewing thoughtfully. “What’s there to say?” he said, his voice a light growl. It was playful, but I heard the hurt hiding underneath.

I took a deep breath. “You’re my family, Rufus. More important than any silly gnome. It’s yours.”

Minutes passed. Rufus stopped chewing.

“Keep it,” he said finally, his tail thumping softly against the ground. “Family is family, Frank. And you… you’re the best of us.”

The air between us cleared, and just like that, we were back to being more than friends, more than family. Bonds stronger than the toughest chew toy.

As we trotted back through the town, paws in sync, a detour by The Pampered Pooch Salon seemed befitting. Not my usual haunt – I have little use for ribbons and bows – but the sight of Best in Show Photography made me pause. A family portrait, that’s what we needed. A snapshot of this moment, our renewed camaraderie immortalized.

The photographer, a sprightly spaniel with a keen eye, captured our likenesses. There we stood, Rufus and I, like sentinels of the great Hound Heights, heads held high. The flash was a burst of light, dancing across our faces as a silent witness to our reunion.

With the day waning, and Rufus having his fill of my company, I found myself longing for the comfort of my human family. They say every dog has its day, but the truth is every dog has its people, and mine – my mom and sister – are the stars that navigate me home, no matter where my four paws take me in Pawsburg.

As I curl up in my own backyard, my gnomes from earlier disputes standing silent guard, an epicurean memory of sardines and chicken dinner propels me to dreamland. I’ll tell my family about my adventures, about the power of love over toys, and about Pawsburg, where even a stately dog like me can chase after his own tail of drama, forgiveness, and family.

The End.