Hey Mom! Just wanted to let you know I’ve been helping the humans solve a few mysteries around the neighborhood. Nothing too crazy, but I’m definitely getting more belly rubs and treats out of it. 🐾 Woof!
– Fatty Mc Fatterson

Dusk had settled over the neighborhood, and I, Newman, the portly English Bulldog with an eye for gourmet nibbles and an almost preternatural ability to nap, was just about to drift into my customary evening snooze when the hum of activity in Pawsburg called to me. You know Pawsburg, that magical town where dogs go to have all the fun their humans think they’re missing out on. As soon as my mom headed to bed, I slipped out, padding my way through the moonlit alleys until I reached my special portal—a loose plank in the fence that led me into the heart of Pawsburg.

Tonight, however, Pawsburg wasn’t its usual bustling self. The air was tinged with an electrifying buzz that pulled at my curiosity like a squeaky toy. Making my way past the familiar Sapphire Schnauzer Street and Eskimo Estuary, I felt a strange magnetic pull toward Samoyed Square. As I entered the square, my eyes widened at the sight of Babs and Bruno, my trusty companions and the best squad of floppy-eared adventurers a dog could have.

“Newman!” Babs exclaimed, her paws jittering with excitement. “You won’t believe what we’ve found in the old boneyard!”

I cautiously waddled over, my tail barely wagging with anticipation. Bruno, always the adventurous type, was already inspecting an ancient, rusty automobile that had somehow materialized next to the fountain.

“It’s a car, dummy,” I mumbled through a yawn. Professional napping tended to blur the lines between enthusiasm and skepticism for me.

“Not just any car,” retorted Bruno, his nose sniffing furiously around the wheels. “It’s got some strange gizmos and thingamajigs. And… a button that says ‘Time Travel!'”

I perked up at the words “time travel,” my skepticism evaporating like the morning dew. I waddled closer, eyeing the button with a mix of fascination and terror.

“Should we… push it?” whispered Babs, eyes wide with the promise of mischief and discovery.

“Well, I suppose if it involves a proper nap afterward,” I conceded, flashing my crooked-toothed grin.

The three of us clambered into the car, my sizable derrière taking up most of the back seat. Bruno wiggled into the driver’s seat and, with a ceremonial flourish, pressed the button.

Suddenly, a whirlwind of light and sound engulfed us. I felt as if I was suspended in a cloud of beef jerky-scented fog. Then, in the blink of a bloodshot eye, we crash-landed into broad daylight, with Pawsburg looking drastically different.

“This… doesn’t look right,” I muttered, my instinct for food critiquing temporarily overridden by sheer confusion. The sapphire street was now cobblestone, and instead of modern establishments like Dachshund’s Deli and Canine’s Cuisine, I saw quaint, rustic shops with wooden signs. One particularly interesting place had a sign that read, “Ye Olde Rover’s Retreat.”

“We’re in the past,” Bruno announced. “Look, that’s the Eskimo Estuary—but it’s barely an estuary! More like a puddle!”

“We must’ve traveled centuries back!” Babs breathed, her tail wagging in awe.

The surroundings might have been old-timey, but the spirit of Pawsburg remained. Dogs of all breeds and sizes roamed around, engaged in their ever-endless capers. We decided to explore and document these archaic culinary haunts for my food critic column, reasoning it was the least we could do while figuring out how to return home.

We trotted into “Ye Olde Rover’s Retreat,” where a burly Bulldog in a medieval outfit served up meat pies that smelled so heavenly, I almost forgot we were in a temporal quagmire.

“Not bad,” I opined, sinking my snout into the flaky crust. “But could use a bit more flavor.”

Once sated, we retraced our pawsteps back to the time-traveling car. We clicked the ‘Return’ button, and before we knew it, we were back in familiar Pawsburg, the fountain gleaming under the moonlight.

“Not a bad adventure,” Bruno grinned as we disembarked. Babs nodded, her excitement still palpable.

As I ambled back to my portal, I mused about the old times—and the modern joys of a queen-sized bed. While our journey had been thrilling, there was nothing quite like the comfort of home. Plus, a proper nap was overdue.

The kettle in the kitchen would be simmering soon, and I could almost hear the soft voices of my mom drifting through dreamland. With a final look back at the wondrous Pawsburg, I slipped through the portal, the magic of time travel tucked away with a yawn and a promise of tomorrow’s adventures.