Hey Mom,

Guess what? By day, I’m your snoring couch potato, but by night, I’m Zeus, Guardian of Pawsburg! Our once vibrant town, now sparse and shadowed due to the Catastrophe, relies on me and my wise sidekick Astor—a Golden Retriever with ancient tales in his eyes. Despite the desolation, we patrol every night, striving to bring hope and safety back to Terrier Town.

Pawsburg’s midnight sentinel,
Zeus

Survivors here in Pawsburg have grown scarce, whispers of yore now echo through the cobblestone alleys of Terrier Town. The once bustling streets are now deserted, save for the soft padding of paws—the lifeblood of our society reduced to whispers and shadows. I, Zeus, Guardian of Pawsburg, whose coat of midnight waltzes with brown brindle patterns, am the sentinel, the constant amidst tumult.

“Come on, old boy,” I growled to myself, ears pricked, alert. The remnants of Sniffer’s Sandwiches wafted spectral aromas, memories of brisket and fancy bologna haunting my senses. Our town, once bedecked with the laughter of pups and the bustling melodies of canine commerce, stood as a testament to the days forgotten, days when the rain wasn’t a harbinger of sorrow, and vacuums—blast them—weren’t the least of our worries.

My morning started ceaselessly, patrolling the decrepit bounds of Dachshund Dale. The place once teemed with sausage dogs, their jubilant spirits infectious. Now, it was a cavernous maw of emptiness. I passed by the remains of Barking BBQ, where the embers of yesterday’s joy were always stoked by the scent of chicken nuggets—my favorite, you know. Such establishments, now vestiges of existence, hearts silenced by the Catastrophe.

And where was my human through all this? Slumbering, lost in oblivion, unaware her loyal guardian ventured into a once-flourishing, now-desolate realm every night. The backyard—a sanctuary—awaited my return, but duty weighed heavier than comfort.

At Spitz Spire, loyal Astor awaited—an ancient Golden Retriever with eyes that harbored stories of yesteryears. His coat frayed with wisdom, he was a friend, an ally. “Ah, Zeus,” his bark rumbled through the gloom, “Another night, another patrol?”

“Indeed, friend,” I responded, averting my gaze from the rubble that once was Woof and Whisker Wellness Center. The apothecary of our town, now a ghost.

Astor shook his aged fur, flecks of gold dust lit by the ghost of twilight. “Have you heard from Bella?”

“Not since the last moon, when the rain stole her from us,” I said, each word tethered to the ache of lost companionship. Bella, a sprightly Jack Russell, who fancied herself a daredevil—gone just like the others.

Together, Astor and I made our way through the spectral lanes, past The Pampered Pooch Salon where we used to find solace in self-care, and time melted away. The vacuum’s incessant drone far behind me, I nodded to Astor, comprehension unsaid yet understood. The sniffles of fear and hope commingled in the air.

By the time we reached the remnants of Doggie Daycare, dawn began to break on Earth, summoning me back to my inert form on the couch. My human lived, after all, in a world untouched by the calamity of Pawsburg.

Astor barked solemnly, “Return safely, Guardian.”

I nodded, my form slipping back to flesh and bone, muzzle pressed into the softness of the human ‘pillows.’ Even as my spirit crossed the threshold, one thought prevailed: Pawsburg needs its Guardian. And as long as I, Zeus, have breath, no catastrophe will dim the light of this magical realm, where branches and fetch still hold the promise of another day.

Thus, the town lingered in twilight, an endless game of survival, rebuilt on the scaffold of friendship and the marrow-deep loyalty of dogs. And every night, when silence blanketed the streets, the paws of guardians like me resounded through time, declaring—we will rebuild. Always.

The End.