Hey Mom & Dad! Just wanted to let you know that I played a key role in sniffing out the missing cake thief, reunited the Jones’ kitten with her family, and still found time for my afternoon nap in the sun. All in a day’s work for your favorite detective on four paws! Woof, Mia 🐾

Well, grubby paws and fluffy tails, a tale I’ve got for ya the likes of which Emerald Eskimo Estuary’s never heard before! Name’s Mia, and as you folks know, I’m sporting a reddish fawn coat with paws dipped in white as if I’d mooshed through a puddle of milk. You might’ve guessed from lookin’ at me that I’m as playful and courageous as the tales talk about, but this ain’t no ordinary tale.

One quiet evening in Pawsburg, while the human world slumbered and my mom-and-dad were out like a light, us dogs trekked over to Terrier Town for mouthwatering Canine Kabobs. My buddy Molly, a white Pit bull with gums that flapped like laundry in the wind, was yappin’ my ears off about how she nearly caught her own tail that mornin’, a real prized catch among us dogs. This tale, though, involved some unexpected tail-action of a much stranger variety.

As we whooped it up and licked string cheese off our muzzles, a bright blue light hit the sky, castin’ a glow so fierce even the Hound’s Hotdogs’ neon sign looked shy. Above Ruby Rottweiler Ridge, floating shapes appeared, silhouetted against the moon.

“Land sakes alive!” Molly barked. “Are them aliens?!” Her eyes were as big as a puppy’s first squirrel sighting.

Now, I’ve always been one of the bravest, blessed with boldness and brawn, but I confess there was somethin’ uncanny about those hoverin’ saucers that had me thinkin’. With my loyalty to earth and sky—and every backyard in between—I knew it’s up to us to protect good ol’ Pawsburg.

I led the charge down to Ruff and Tumble Toy Store, where we equipped ourselves with squeaky toy weapons (for motivational sound effects, naturally) and barked a rallying call throughout the community. Dusty, that buff orangish cat and my playmate—though she screams bloody murder when I stand over her—sauntered in to assist, sharp claws and all, while still maintainin’ her regal feline composure.

The extraterrestrial bunch lowered from the sky, curiosity in their beady eyes, and with their round bodies bouncin’ as reminiscent as a game of fetch.

“Well, we’re not here to cause no trouble!” I spat out (or rather, woofed), my accent twangin’ more than a banjo at a summer jamboree. “But Pawsburg ain’t lookin’ for no new diggin’ buddies right now. Not unless y’all got plenty of squeakers and string cheese to bribe us!”

The aliens communicated by flashin’ eerie lights, but they seemed to take a shine to us, takin’ notes, on their little dog bone-shaped notepads about our rough-housing ways. It turns out they’d heard tell of a place where dogs ruled the roost and they meant to learn our secrets: how we managed to play, bark, and sunbathe like life was an endless carnival.

Well, needless to say, we put on a good show! With Dusty performin’ her cat-dance and Molly doin’ the tail-chase twist, I showed them what real tug-of-war looked like—which resulted in many a high-pitched alien giggle. Soon enough, guessin’ we dogs had our wits about us, they swirled back to the ridge and vanished into the night sky, their fond memories of Pawsburg saved for all cosmic dog-beings to fawn upon.

I dare say, for a moment there, Earth was an aliens’ paradise, all thanks to a brave little gang of dogs steady in our purpose. We returned home, noses pressed against windows, leaving nose art for mom-and-dad to puzzle over come mornin’.

So, dear friends, if ever ya see a curious twinklin’ star above, remember ol’ Mia out by the estuary, where heroism’s etched into pawprints and legends loop up in the skies.