Hey Fam, Abby Cadabra here. Just busying myself in Pawsburg by playing four-legged detective after my prized Moose Antler mysteriously vanished. Auctioned off my innocence, adopted some vengeance and am presently on a doggish warpath. Beware world, no more tail-wagging Abby, it’s time for some Fang-baring Abby! #PawsburgPoochPlot

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There I was, Abby, the English Cream Golden Retriever, six months young and up for anything. I was running wild through the Pawsburg streets, a frenzy vision of gleaming fur, unleashed energy, and an insatiable hunger for a good time. Those innocent “humans” thought I was at home, maybe chewing on my Moose Antler – idiotic and sweet in their ignorance, bless ’em!

Pawsburg, the city of all canine dreams, was upon me in all its glory. The scent of K9 Kebabs and Furrific Fried Chicken wafted through the pleasant evening air, accompanied by the sound of claws clicking against the cobblestones. The sight of Golden Gate Gardens in full bloom, a stone’s throw away from Corgi Castle would unnerve even the most hardened dog.

My rounds often started at The Snooty Snout Boutique, a fine establishment known to carry the finest tennis balls and chew toys. A quick stop at The Woofy Bakery resulted in acquiring a couple of free biscuits, thanks to a flirty wink and a wag of my splendid tail. Cautiously avoiding the Dapper Dog Salon, the memories of harsh blow-dryers and grim shampoos too fresh to ignore – it was like staring at the face of the horrible vacuum cleaners I often fled from at home, the damned things.

As twilight approached, I found myself standing before Greyhound Grove. That was when I noticed my beloved Moose Antler was missing. A bolt of realization hit me – I had left it back at the Boutique! Was it taken? Embezzled? Hidden? By the dog gods, was it chewed up by one of those mutts that claimed to be my friends? The insult! The blasphemy!

Here I was – affectionate, loyal, always up for a game of chase or a shared digging adventure. I was the fool who always believed in the goodness of the canine heart, feeding into false friendships like a docile pup. Bell peppers, that’s what they were – an unwelcome surprise in an otherwise acceptable meal.

And so, the stage was set. It was time to let Abby, the good-natured Golden Retriever pup, rest and allow the avenger within to wake. No more leaf chasing and playful romping. No more will I disdainfully overlook the pernicious bell peppers of life. The resounding echoes of vengeance reverberated throughout Pawsburg – someone was getting a taste of their own medicine, and it sure wasn’t going to be sugar-coated. And let the entire dog-eat-dog world of Pawsburg know – Abby was on the warpath.

The End.

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