Hey Mom,

Chase, Ears, and Thrills today! Almost lost my treasured Dino bone to some snooty city dogs. Of course, your Bronson Buns ran to the rescue, got back the bone, snagged some jewels, and brought some tough lessons to Pawsburg invaders, all in a day’s work. Pawsburg remains safe!

Licks,
B. Buns

Listen to the story here

It was a typical morning in Pawsburg when Bronson, my Bulldog buddy, and I, sidled up to the Bone Appetit cafeteria, his eyes sparkling at the thought of peanut butter and cheese. Our days usually kicked off over our breakfast dates. Me, a grumpy Chihuahua named Enzo, and Bronson, a terror inducing mass of English Bulldog muscle with an odd fondness for cucumbers.

“I’m telling you, Bronson, Fetch-N-Bites has better bones,” I said, as he scrambled toward his usual corner table. He grumbled. Dismissing my complaints or brushing it aside as he would any romaine lettuce that ever crossed his path.

Bronson became inexplicably restless halfway through breakfast. His eyes, each cloaked in a different coloured patch, flicked across the room, his unease almost palpable. I noticed it, a few more sensitive canines noticed it and retreated.

And then it happened.

The city hounds hit Pawsburg, uninvited and unannounced. Bronson, instinctively bolted to the opposite direction. I however, listened intently. French accents, Siamese cats. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds. A plan. It wasn’t just a plan. It was THE plan. The one Bronson and I had trained for at the Pawfect Training Center.

Getting his slab of a body to move beyond the safety of Brindle Brown Boxer Beach was no mean feat. I pushed and kicked, almost lost a tooth. Persistence pays, and it did. Bronson finally understood the severity of the situation, and thus began our most exciting adventure yet.

It took the theft of his beloved Dino bone to shake some sense into that stubborn frame. We barked, howled and growled. We made our way from the Red Beagle Beach to the Dalmatian Desert, then the Waggle n’ Wok. Bronson almost roared out his lungs when the wind carried the faint scent of the thieves. We followed the scent, and then the hounds themselves. Of course, he didn’t care for the jewels, it was the Dino bone he wanted.

Many a guard we silently went past. Many a corner we turned. One last turn, and there they were – the toffy city dogs, gloating over their theft, unaware of our approach. They didn’t notice even as Bronson trotted right up to them, quietly nicking his Dino bone and quickly making for the exit. I nabbed the gems, my size much more accommodating for agility.

The sand gave way to cemented roads and I could already see the gates of Pawsburg – the home territory. Suddenly, Bronson stopped in his tracks, swiveling round like a cornered bulldog. The city dogs hadn’t given up. He growled, a menacing sound echoing through the streets, curling around their French accents. I could see the sheen of sweat on the Poodles, the stiffening posture of the Bulldogs; they knew they were beaten. The city dogs knew not to trifle with Bronson or Pawsburg again.

And at the end of the day, as the sun set over Pawsburg, Bronson and I returned, victorious, with jewels and Dino bone in possession, to our beloved town of free dogs. Had stubbornness and loyalty won the day or had it nearly lost it? I didn’t know. All I knew was, having Bronson by my side made the adventure worthwhile. Life with him isn’t just a walk in a park, it’s a thrilling ride, worth embarking on!

The End.

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