Hey fam, Hercules here,

Just another day in Pawsburg; rummaging through ruins, reliving old memories and reigniting our spirit with a squeaky rubber duck. Who knew our boon in these trying times would be a damnable duck?! It’s showed us though, it’s not about what we lost, but what we still wag our tails for. Pawsburg may be battered, but it ain’t beaten. Stay hopeful, stay strong, and for heaven’s sake, avoid broccoli kibble!

Love, Herc.

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I was stirring from sleep, the crinkle of a beef-jerky bag ricocheting in my ears, suddenly pulling me back into the lucidity of existence. Sleep, a rare solace in these broken times, was scarcely as satisfying as beef jerky. Ah, sweet savory joy.

Pawsburg, once the bustling metropolis of frolicking four-legged adventurers, was now a shadow of its former self. Western Husky Hill and Western Fawn Pug Palace stand forsaken, like old sentinels under a sky shrouded with lingering traces of the Unseen Catastrophe.

“Are you awake, Herc?” came the soft whisper of Grandma Freckles from the corner of our hovel. I wagged my tail in response. On our smaller scale, we were trying to rebuild. To remember what play felt like.

Waiting for the rest of the pack to wake, I ventured out to the remains of Bark ‘n’ Roll. The very sound of its name brought a faint smile to my face, casting memories of happier times. I scrounged through left-behind treats, but all I could find was dry broccoli kibble. A shiver ran through me, and I sneezed in disgust.

Later, in the dim candlelight of our shared abode, Tango and I teased Dammitt till the very echoes of our laughter breathed life into the hollow night. We chowed down on leftovers from Ruff-n-Ready’s storeroom, squirreled away for nights such as these.

My restlessness was palpable. That’s when it happened – somewhere in the distance, I heard it. A faint squeak. As unmistakable as it was jarring in the punctuated silence around me. Something 0 stirred in my memory as I darted towards the sound. It was… my rubber duck! More than a toy, it had been a cornerstone of my existence, a totem that brought solace.

I watched as everyone else came rushing, hearing the familiar mirthful sound. Suddenly, we were not survivors anymore; we were simply a collection of friends, navigating the ruins of our past lives. The squeaky rubber duck, like an unexpected time machine, transported us back to an age when we measured time not by the passing of days but by the games we played in the yards of the Bailey’s, and the friendships we forged amidst the joyous cacophony.

As I held on to my dear duck, I realized we had for too long tethered ourselves to loss and desperation. Perhaps, it was time to rebuild Pawsburg, one squeak at a time.

In the battle of survival, Hercules discovered, whimsy could be a most unexpected ally. And with each passing day, he would remind himself and his pack that their story was not one of doom, but of resilience, a tale spun from the threads of hope, friendship, squeaky rubber ducks, and an eternal hatred for broccoli.

The future of Pawsburg… it was open wide with possibilities. Noisy, playful possibilities.

The End.

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