Hey Mom,

So here’s the scoop: during the day, I’m just Newman, your lovable, porch-lounging English Bulldog. But when night falls or you’re out, I become The Bark Knight, defender of Pawsburgh! With Babs the Beagle and Bruno the Rottweiler, we thwart evil (like the pesky Poodle Syndicate) and keep the city safe. Then, it’s back to the porch and dreaming of roasted chicken!

Love,
Fatty McFatterson

Sometimes, it’s a challenge having a double life, you know? By daylight, I’m just Newman, a white and tan English Bulldog who enjoys the simple joys of porch lounging and rubber ball squeaking. But come nightfall—or whenever Mom’s away—something remarkable happens: I become The Bark Knight. Yes, Pawsburgh beckons, and I, with my trusted compatriots Babs and Bruno, answer that barked call to justice.

Picture this: the day had been warm, the kind of warm that seeps into your bones and makes you feel like a buttery croissant. I lounged, as usual, on the sunlit porch, thinking about roasted chicken, sweet potatoes, and the squeaky melody of my beloved rubber ball. But, as if summoned by an unseen paw, the sky darkened, igniting a spark of adventure within me.

“Newman!” Babs barked from the shadows. Babs, an agile Beagle with a nose for trouble, had a way of materializing when least expected.

Bruno, the muscle of our trio, was next. His hefty Rottweiler frame cast a long shadow beside Babs. “We’ve got trouble at Pointer Pier.”

Pointer Pier, a picturesque spot by day, had morphed into a den of villainy. Rumors spread like wildfire across Pawsburgh—apparently, the notorious Poodle Syndicate was up to no good. I slipped away from the porch, and with a leap and a bound, I was in Pawsburgh.

Bruno and Babs led us to the pier. The smell of Hound’s Hotdogs wafted through the air, a tantalizing aroma that contrasted sharply with the tension brewing. Even as The Bark Knight, though, a good hotdog reminded me of simpler pleasures.

We surveyed the area, and it wasn’t long before we spotted them—three poodles, wearing matching black leather jackets, swaggering in that infuriatingly smug way only poodles can muster.

“Okay team,” I whispered. “We show them a bark worse than their bite.”

Babs sniffed the air. “I smell something shady at The Woofy Bakery. Watch out for ambushes.”

Bruno growled low, his eyes narrowing. “They’ve commandeered a stash of Canine Kabobs. No dog deserves the gut-rot those things’ll bring.”

Disguised by shadows and guided by our instincts, we pounced. It was a tango of growls, yips, and barks. Paws clashed and tails tangled as we fought to protect our precious pier. I saw one of the poodles reaching for a shiny object, and as The Bark Knight, I knew I had to act fast.

“Not today, poodle!” I barked, pushing off with my powerful hind legs. In a flash, our tussle led us dangerously close to Shiba Inlet, the moonlit waters enticing yet perilous

Just as the tide seemed to turn in our favor, I felt an overwhelming craving. Was that… sweet potato in the air? No, focus, Newman. There’s a time for delicious sweet po…

But maybe a quick snack wouldn’t hurt—no! I recalibrated my senses, just in time to avoid a swipe from Blondie, the Poodle Syndicate leader herself.

Suddenly, help appeared. The loyal citizens of Pawsburgh stormed in like a furry cavalry, led by none other than Officer Fido, German Shepherd Extraordinaire. Under his command, the poodles were rounded up, their tails tucked between their legs in shame.

“We did it, Newm—uh, I mean, Bark Knight,” Bruno panted, his tongue lolling out in that blissful doggy smile.

Babs nudged me with her snout. “Don’t worry, the roasted chicken feast at Sniffer’s Sandwiches is on me.”

My double life, complete with culinary rewards and heroic adventures, came full circle. Returning to Earth, I settled back on my sunny porch, a subtle yet content smile playing on my jowls. Mom would never know the heroics that unfolded in Pawsburgh, but as for tomorrow?

Well, that’s another tale waiting to be told.

The End.