Hey Mom and Dad,

Just wrapped up an unexpected day starring as the surprise guest at a Wagging Whisk parade, dodged a banana bait-and-switch, and got my unicorn double booked for a gig while I skirted chaos at Pomeranian Park. Rest assured, I’ve navigated my canine capers and returned to my throne beside a snoozing Joey. Pawsburgh tales never fail to amuse! Tail wags and face licks,

Moo 🐾✨

Listen to the story here

When one holds court as the fluffy sovereign of Pawsburgh, a day in the life is hardly ever ordinary, and today was no exception. I had managed to slip away from my beloved human, Joey, mid-nap—a talent of mine that rivals Houdini himself—because even a gentle giant needs a sprinkling of mischief now and then.

As I ambled towards Pomeranian Park, canvasing the thoroughfare with my cottony paws, my mind was consumed with thoughts of delectable pup cakes from The Canine Cafe. And then, like a furred embodiment of Murphy’s Law, I laid eyes upon a gathering of canines amassed around Bark Buffet. No ordinary gathering, this one—it was akin to a carnival, a cavalcade of chaos, the galumphing and gamboling of my four-legged brethren.

My adventuring accomplice, Mickey—a Pomchi with the misguided conviction that he’s a canine Napoleon—whizzed past, his paws a white blur, his tail a plume of defiance.

“Come, Marnie!” Mickey cried, eyes alight, much like a firebrand setting flame to the still air. “You must not miss the excitement!”

Despite myself, excitement is my soft spot. We plowed through the packs of barking socialites and tail-chasing artists until an unmistakable, irresistible aroma curled around my senses—the scent of cheese.

Naturally, I found it prudent to lurk around the Golden Grub. But then, the unthinkable happened. A high-stepping Beagle, all pomp and no circumstance, mistook me, yes me, for the afternoon entertainer due at Wagging Whisk. Before my nose could follow the scent of cheese to its delicious origin, I was strung up with ribbons like a Yuletide ham and paraded around with ill-fitting gusto.

“You’re certain to be a hit, my giant fluff!” the Beagle chortled, giving me a conspiratorial wink.

The absurdity! I am not cut out for the limelight, much like my brother Joey isn’t cut out for tying his own shoelaces—expect a disaster, await an untangling.

Amidst my forced promenade, a peculiar sight, more befitting a storybook, seized my attention. At Spa for Paws, a flock of Poodles were embroiled in a brawl over dueling hair dryers, each more piquant than the last.

Could this day devolve any further? Indeed, it could, as Mickey bounded up, a flurry of fluster and excitement.

“Marnie, you must elude them!” he yap-yapped. “The delivery person is here with a gift, but the rumor is, it’s a truckload of bananas disguised as dog treats!”

Bananas, the rogue fruit, the peel-embodied treachery! With this new threat looming, my feeble distress signals went unnoticed. All the while, Joey, my human, my heart, would soon stir from his nap, wondering where I’ve disappeared.

Determined to evade this comedy of terrors, I ducked behind Pyrenean Peak, an artificial mount tailored for those of us with inclinations for high places.

Fortune, it seems, favors the fluffed, as the cheese scent returned to guide me. I could practically taste the rich creaminess on my tongue—until, with a flourish worthy of the farce that it was, my unicorn toy emerged from behind the buffet, dressed in Beagle-planted ribbons.

The dogs—comrades in confusion—hailed the toy as the special guest, their cheer riotous, liberating me from my mistaken identity.

As the sun began to yield to twilight’s embrace, and with Mickey in tow, laughing in our wake, we slipped back into the human world. I returned to my post beside Joey, who would never believe where I’d been, nor the misadventures that had unfolded.

“Ah, Marnie,” Joey would murmur with a smile, unaware of the depth of our Pawsburgh escapades. And yet, each bark, each wag, embodied a story untold, a mischief unshared, and a bond unbreakable.

The End.