Hey Mom, guess what? I became the neighborhood’s unsung hero today! Helped a bunch of kids find their missing soccer ball and a curious cat escape a tree. Who would’ve thought a wagging tail could do so much? Feeling kinda proud! 🐾 Love, SUE

Now, let me tell ya ’bout an adventure that’d make old Sam Clemens himself blink twice. Just the night before last, the moon was shinin’ bright as a lick of ice cream, and while most humans thought us canines snug in our beds, I, Sue Jangles, did sneak off to the magical land of Pawsburg—a place where dogs escape their collars and live a bit of the fantastical life.

Now, I reckon you know my brindle and whited self only by my antics when you leave me alone—rollin’ round and chawin’ on empty plastic bottles like they was the finest aged cheddar chippies. But away from human eyes, I’m known along Amber Akita Alley as Sue Jangles, the bulldog diva. Why, I even own a clothing boutique in Pawsburg called Dapper Doggie. There’s a little piece of the genuine article for you.

This story starts on a fine Friday night, with me zipping past Bichon Boulevard, the cool breeze rushin’ through my short, stout frame. Stop temptin’ the winds a dog with my hefty body ain’t light of paw. See, it ain’t every day you spot an English Bulldog streakin’ through town faster than a streak o’ lightning, cause when I hit an incline, I roll ‘stead o’ runnin’. Makes for some mighty good chuckles among the locals, let me tell ya.

But this particular evening carried a strange magic in it. As I waddled over to Basenji Bay, I stumbled upon the fabled Spooky Spruce Party—a gathering only whispered about among our kind. It’s a festival where all us dogs face our most feared supernatural beasts, and heaven knows I have a list longer than a collar in summertime. I don’t mind tug-of-war, wrestlin’, and a good rough-house, but you bring out a vacuum, and I’m more a trembling leaf than a roarin’ lion.

Well, there I stood with my pals—Ivy, the fiercely protective Sheba Inu, and Sassy, the Siamese cat. She managed to slip through the strings of fate and join us. We arrived just in time to see an apparition floatin’ gracefully along the normally quiet bay, whisperin’ secrets of the vacuum cleaner or some other hound’s dread.

But truth be told, my little heart was focused not on ghosts but on the hypnotic sweet smell emanatin’ from Pawfect Pastries, right there on the corner. They’d just set out a batch of beef-flavored buns, enough aroma to distract any dog with half a nose and a quarter wit. My belly gave a rumble louder than thunder, and my nose pulled me from the ghostly gala right over to the shop.

Inside, the atmosphere had none of the hauntin’ and all of the heavenly—a puffed pastry palace, lined with shelves stuffed with chews and muffins. My friend Ivy, bless her brave heart, scared off the bake shop ghost while Sassy and I swiped some of them delightful buns straight off the tray.

In the midst of our snatchin’, I went ahead and made a deal with my inner-galumphing poltergeist. Because, y’know, sometimes the best way to beat your fears is to charge at ‘em headfirst, or in my case, belly-first, with bits of bun clingin’ to my jowls.

When we made our return back to the waking world, all paws headed home, I settled into my blanket, a cheddary whiff stayin’ with me as reminder of an evening well-wrought with adventure and danger, in a world only pups like me will ever see.

So, if you ever catch me snoozing with my tongue hangin’ out somethin’ fierce, know that a sweet breeze from Pawsburg and the smell of a vacuous pastry still linger—a sure sign I’ve had a visit to that magical land and lived to tell the tale.