Hey buddy,

So, I’m the brave Blue Grey Blue Nose Pitbull who led my furry friends through “Pawsburg” after the Tummyquake hit and turned our secret doggie paradise into a disaster zone. We’re rebuilding our world one paw at a time despite it all. Think of me as your canine superhero, minus the cape but with a lot more slobber.

Stay pawsome,
Creed

### **Post-Pawsburg: Creed’s Journal**

—

Humans are as predictable as sunrise. Around 9 A.M., they’re off to their jobs, oblivious to the double lives we whisk away to. Pawsburg was once our secret paradise, teeming with the aroma of roasting chicken and the sound of squeaky toys. Now, it’s a shell of its former self—an echo of joy muffled by disaster.

They say the Tummyquake—that’s what we called it—struck without warning. It’s funny how something so catastrophic could carry such a cute name. A rift split right through Malamute Mountain, shaking all us canines to our cores. As the ground quivered, Fido’s Feast and Barking BBQ toppled like freshly stacked card houses. The Groom Room? Reduced to clumps of fur and suds. But it wasn’t the smell of wet dog that bothered me. It was the emptiness.

I’ll never forget that day. Docked at Shiba Inlet—our place for chasing waves and sniffing salty air—I felt the tremor under my paws. My friends and I were too busy wrestling to notice at first. Then, the earth swayed like a giant panting beneath us. Next thing I knew, Shiba Inlet’s tranquil waters were rolling with malicious energy, pulling everything into its briny maw.

The human world above was none the wiser, and we liked it that way. Pawsburg was our orphaned utopia, now fragmented and frail. I took it upon myself—like any loyal Blue Grey Blue Nose Pitbull would—to guide my fellow survivors through this furry armageddon.

Bentley the Beagle, my right-paw dog, whimpered beside me as we took in the wreckage. His plaintive gaze scanned the collapsed eateries and toppled boutiques. Pet Partners Pet Supplies, my go-to spot for squeaky toys, lay rubble. The silence was brutal; it gnawed at us like a tick burrowing under the fur.

“Stay close, Bentley. We’ll fix this,” I barked, mustering any courage I could.

We made our way through the once-bustling Affenpinscher Avenue, dodging debris and searching for familiar faces. Amid the ruins, I found Bosley, the Old English Sheepdog, managing a makeshift soup kitchen out of Mastiff’s Meals’ remains. He’d managed to salvage some kibble and water bowls. Maybe it wasn’t the roast chicken I craved, but it was a start.

“Creed, we need to rally everyone. This isn’t the Pawsburg we knew,” Bosley said, his voice gravelly but resolute.

Days blurred into weeks, but time became irrelevant. Our mission was survival. Even amid ruin, our camaraderie thrived. We’d gather under the remnants of Barking BBQ, now our headquarters, planning how to rebuild while trading stories of the old days.

One moonlit night, I found Bentley under a scrap of The Groom Room’s sign. His tawny fur was matted with a blend of dirt and worry.

“Creed, do you think humans know what happened?” He asked, eyes filled with childish uncertainty.

“Whether they do or not, Bentley,” I sighed, “it’s up to us to make things right here.”

I knew he missed our secret adventures—just like I did. Heck, I even missed the dreaded ear-cleaning sessions. But what we missed most were those moments of pure joy, the unfettered romps through intact landscapes, and the carefree days. Still, a glimmer of hope nipped at my heels. Pawsburg might be battered, cracked, and weary, but it wasn’t broken.

We began patching up the town, one paw at a time, cheering each other with woofs of encouragement and the occasional tail wag. Slowly but surely, the heart of Pawsburg began to beat again, albeit with a new rhythm.

Every once in a while, I’d look at the sky and wonder if things would ever be as they were. I’d imagine the scent of roasting chicken wafting back, tickling our nostrils, signaling that all is well. Until then, my steel-coated frame and boundless energy would keep the spirit of Pawsburg alive.

We were survivors. Loyal. Playful. Affectionate. Protective. And we’d rebuild this world where the humans above would never know the whispers of our post-apocalyptic paradise.

The End.