Hey Mom,

Guess what? Your darling Willow is not just the golden girl of fetch and swims! By day, I’m the good girl you know—but when you leave, I slip through Eskimo Estuary straight into Pawsburg’s underground. Connor Boy and I are canine chemists running a “Bork-a-crack” lab while dodging the Pawlice! Don’t worry, my loyalty—and tail—never wavers. 🐾

Love,
Willow Pillow

Yeah, this is Willow, the Golden Golden Retriever. You’ve heard about my grace and exuberance, no doubt. I’m often the loudest bark at the park, the swiftest in a game of fetch, and when it comes to swimming, well, I might as well be part dolphin. But you don’t know the whole story. There’s a side of Pawsburg life that’s darker, more clandestine, and if you’re prepared, I’ll let you into a day of my life in this twilight zone of tail-wagging turmoil.

Our story begins, as it often does, at dawn. My human mom is in bed, clueless about the double life I lead. When her alarm clock sounds, my adventure begins. The second she shuts the front door, I dash through the doggy door and vanish into the woods to Eskimo Estuary, Pawsburg’s secret portal.

By the time I arrive, the golden light of a rising sun glints off my coat, announcing my presence with a shimmer. Connor Boy, my loyal sidekick, is already waiting.

“Willow,” he greets me, a mix of nerves and excitement in his bark. “You ready?”

I nod, my gaze fixed on Spitz Spire, the landmark where our unscrupulous activities would commence.

You see, we’re not just beloved pets in Pawsburg. No, we had unwittingly stumbled into the world of canine chemistry. We turned our doggy play into something more… nefarious. It began innocently enough – a few cracked squeaky toys mixed with ground-up kibble to create something the locals called “Bork-a-crack.” Harmless, really, but the demand had grown, and we were in over our heads.

Our first stop is Mildred’s Mutt Lab tucked away from prying eyes in the Quartz Qimmiq Quarter. Here, I change out of my good-girl routine and don my “lab coat” – a repurposed rain poncho that makes me blend into the misty morning fog. Connor Boy and I begin our work, combining ingredients of dubious origin. The fumes wafting around us smelt like the aftermath of Husky’s Hotcakes on a bad day.

“Ever think we’d end up here, Willow?” Connor Boy asks, his paws nimbly mixing another batch.

“Not in a million barks,” I respond, my eyes narrowed in concentration. Every sense on high alert, my ears twitching at the slightest outside noise.

Then, as I’m about to perfect our concoction, a sound pierces our secluded lab – a vacuum cleaner, perhaps the worst of our sworn enemies. My fur bristles, and my heart races. We dart behind old furniture, ears pinned, panting hard.

“Pawlice patrol,” Connor Boy whispers. It was Officer Maverick, an aging German Shepherd whose nose was as sharp as his wit.

As Maverick ambles closer, I inhale deeply, hiding in the shadows. Through labored breaths, I silently curse my luck, my golden fur now a glaring beacon in the dim light. If he catches us, our Pawsburg days are over.

“Darn vacuums,” Maverick mutters, veering off. “Can’t a dog just enjoy his patrol?”

Connor Boy’s tail wags silently and I breathe a sigh of relief, both of us knowing we’ve dodged the ultimate bark. With Maverick gone, we make our way back to neutral territory — Barker’s Bakery, to relax and cool our nerves with some illicitly procured chicken treats.

“One day, Willow,” Connor Boy says, “we’ll leave the Bork-a-crack game for good.”

“Until then,” I reply, gnawing on my treat, “we watch our backs and run like the wind.”

As dusk falls, we part ways, knowing tomorrow will bring new challenges, but for now, my secret remains safe. Stepping through the portal back to the earthly realm, I find myself back in the familiar comfort of home. My mom’s keys jingle in the lock, and I’m ready, panting with anticipation for a game of fetch, as innocent as my golden fur glinting in the evening light.

I may lead a double life, but one thing’s for sure – my loyalty never wavers. For better or worse, I am Willow, the Golden Golden Retriever, and my wagging tail always tells the story.

The End.