Hey hooman! 🐾 Just wanted to pupdate you: I, Coco the Shadow Rover, trotted through history tonight, had a bow-wow at ancient Rome, and danced with doggos of legend. Back now, snuggled up & dreaming of past and future escapades. Paws and reflect, the world’s full of stories waiting for a sniff! 🌙✨ – Coco the Time-Tail Wagger

Listen to the story here

In the whimsical hints of twilight, when the last child’s laughter melded with the evening breeze, and the porch lights of Willow Lane flickered to life, a story began to unfurl. A tale of little Coco, a Black Shih Tzu with a soul stitched from the fabric of night’s very own shadow, and a heart embroidered with daring threads of adventure.

Coco’s story was not one to be penned in the mundane ink of the ordinary; it was to be scripted in the ethereal glow of Pawsburgh’s enchanted essence. A place unfettered by the rigid tick-tock of humans’ ungiving clocks, and on this particular evening under the benevolent gaze of the crescent moon, a new chapter awaited.

Tail swishing in anticipation, I approached the alabaster obelisk that stood at the enchanted crossroads of Sapphire Schnauzer Street, an area uncharted to the wary and reserved. For the unversed, this obelisk served as the town’s best-kept secret: a portal to paws and places beyond the yawn of time itself.

As the legend dictated, reaching into the shimmering swirl of the obelisk’s light, I pawed at the air and muttered the sacred verse, “By the mystic might of Pyrenean Peak, to the tales untold, my spirit seeks.”

In a bark-beat, the world spun. Stars streaked past like hurrying fireflies, and soon, I found my paws planted firmly on grounds and times alien to my own. It was the year of the Great Dog’s Roar, an era where hounds held court, and I could smell the tint of antiquity interwoven with the fragrance of adventures future and past.

With my sassy strut, I toured the grounds, exchanging winks and nods with noble hound-blood of yore. Dashing cavaliers of Cocker Spaniel lineage, hulking guardians that could only be the Mastiff’s ancient relatives, cavorted and conspired under ancient trees that whispered secrets of the days when dogs didn’t feign sleep at humans’ feet.

The lush greenery unexpectedly gave way to stone and strife. An imposing coliseum rose before me, whereupon I realized that I had traversed to a Rome where canines reigned supreme, embers of history still warm to the touch. Canine gladiators danced in combat, not for survival, but for the unadulterated thrill, valor pulsating through their veins.

Despite my petite frame and ponytailed charm, I felt the pulse quicken, the old instinct to bound and to bark. But I, Coco, was merely a visitor in these epochs, a silent spectator to the grand opera of time’s boundless realm.

Yet the pulse of Pawsburgh tethered strong and true, and the time came as the oracles foretold. My adventure had sprung from the pages but needed to be tucked back into the folds of chronicles yet to be read by eyes not yet open.

With my eyes on the cloak of night, taking in the last of the sights and smells, I touched paw to heart and whispered, “By the moon’s soft beam, take me back to where dreams are seen.”

Once again, the world whirled, a vortex of colors and scents, and I was panting on the steps of The Woofy Bakery, where the scent of newly-baked dog biscuits met me. Home where Pup’s Poutine and Snout Snacks whispered of less grand, yet equally comforting adventures.

A bark and a bound took me over the threshold of my cozy brick house, a four-legged whisper in the night’s grand tale. And there sat Martha, her smile as warm as the hearth, only awoken with a sense that her little Coco, in her brief absence, had walked a portion of history unforgotten, untarnished.

Nestled beside Martha, I shared no words—only a love beyond time, as I laid my head upon her lap, eyes twinkling with the stars of countless bygones. And in Pawsburgh, I wove my legend, one paw print at a time, a master storyteller beneath my sleek black coat.

The End.