Hey Mom! Today was a big day! Helped my human notice the lost little boy at the park and led him back to his dad. Tail wags all around! Hero status still fits like my favorite collar. Nap time now. Love you! 🐾 – Your Mama’s Princess, Honey Grace

It is a curious thing, you’ll agree, that here in Pawsburg, when the moon rises like a biscuit in the sky, we dogs awake to a realm tucked behind the veil of ordinary days. My name is Honey Grace, or, as Ma lovingly calls me, Mama’s Princess.

Every night, when Ma tucks herself into bed and drifts into dreams of sweet-barked lullabies, I slip through the creaky back gate of our humble abode, eager to embrace the dog-ship that every good-souled canine here knows. Schnauzer Street becometh my path, and I, its resolute traveler.

On this particular evening, Miss Luna was kind enough to sprinkle some silver upon Opal Pomeranian Park. You could see a parade of pups, tail-wagging near enough to create a breeze, and myself, calm as a summer stream, amidst the frolicsome canines. I greeted many a furry fella with a wag and a nod, ’til I found myself seated at a patch of grass where the sunbeams seemed trapped and lay there for company.

Being a dog of full figure—105 pounds if you care to know—I require a fair bit of sunbathing. It tenderly kissed my fawn coat while showing no favoritism to the white-freckled expanse on my chest.

There was talk of pies, you see, over at Pom’s Pies that night. I am a dog of simple tastes—I’ve yet to meet a morsel I do not fancy—unless, of course, it is tainted with the fowl taste of chicken. I ambled over to the pie stand, where Owner Pom, a Cocker Spaniel with a coat more pristine than a royal robe, sniffed my presence and offered a slice of mutton pie. “For Mama’s Princess,” she said, grinning knowingly.

After satisfying my belly, I pottered through Dachshund Dale. It is a mystical land, too, where the trees are known to shuffle leaves in symphony and yet, where I often feared the bath’s call would awaken me from this doggy Eden. Mind you, a creature does not take kindly to suds and sprays—especially one such as I.

As I trotted along, friendly ol’ Buster—to some, known as Mikaila’s boy—appeared in the brush. His white chest and gentle demeanor were reminders of the surrogate mother who taught me the ways of being at ease. We shared tales, and the exchange of one caramel treat Buster had slyly procured from his owner’s counter—not unlike a human exchanging secrets over tea.

The night wore thin as shadows begged to stretch, and the whistle of time whispered that it was time for parting. I sauntered back across the cobbles of Schnauzer Street, sniffed the flowers lining the way, and waived greetings to Mrs. Chihua-hua at her door.

Once I crossed the threshold into Ma’s world, I nestled into my bed. The vacuum—or as I call it, the howling beast—lay dormant, and I felt safe in her sanctuary. In dreams, Ma would ask of my rest. I would reveal tales of sunlit grass and neatly trimmed pies, leaving out matters of coded calls for pies and mischievous dealings with Buster. Some things are life’s secrets meant for dogs to keep.

Come morning’s light, I’ll be Honey Grace once more, with Ma’s granddaughter and Ma herself as the center of my universe—for, as you’ve imagined, they are indeed my utmost delight. Yet, fear not, tonight and every night thereafter, Pawsburg awaits its loyal visitor, me, and I’ll humbly attend its call.

Wag of the tail and all, ’tis a dog’s life in a world spun on magic, spun on adventure, just waiting to be explored.