Hey Mom and Dad 🐾,

Just checking in from the wilds of Pawsburgh! 🌃 I’ve been keeping the peace among the canine clans and negotiating tail-wagging treaties. 😎 Think of me as a fur-covered diplomat with a nose for both treats and trouble. Navigating Akita Alley drama with the finesse of a poodle at a dog show and planning a tug-of-war to unite the bark-brigades! 😉 Also, dodged a sneaky dog-walking invite – espionage is ruff, but I’m on it. Keeping our pack proud and our tails high!

Hugs and howls,
Baby Cakes 🧁/Leia

Listen to the story here

In the shadow-drenched avenues of Pawsburgh, where every dog skippered its own fate, I, Leia, found my empire. Not the usual kind, mind you, I wasn’t some rough and tumble dog of the blocks, nosing through trouble; I was respected, a leader—an arbiter of the bone-burying kind.

One fine evening, as the moon crested like a silver coin tossed by Fortuna herself, I trotted into Canine’s Cuisine. The joint had a warmth to it—the aroma of slow-roasted ribs at Bulldog’s BBQ was just a whisker away, and it was known that a whiff was as good as a meal if you weren’t privy to the inner circles.

I’d orchestrated an unsolicited gathering. The Tail-Twitchers, the Scratchers, the Bone-Collectors—all the families were there. Their names, though seemingly innocent, carried the weight of decades of doggy sagas within Pawsburgh’s hidden history.

“Akita Alley isn’t happy, Leia,” murmured Rudy, the sleek Dobermann from the valley. He was the right sort of chap, but his growl would send shivers down even the bushiest tail.

I delivered my orders like the dollop of Cool Whip I demanded—smooth and sure. “Tell ’em to quiet the yap. There’s a way to handle this without barking mad.”

Murmurs cascaded among the assembled canines. The Spinones and the setters, the hounds and the herders—all knew that when Leia spoke, it was best to listen like you were tracking the neighborhood squirrel; attention was paramount.

We spoke of the new scheme—the tug-of-war tournament at The Pooch Playhouse. “But it’s at Newfoundland Nook,” a whiny voice piped up. “And that means crossing the Spaniels’ territory.”

I fixed them with my ‘game-face,’ the look I saved for reflections in the mirror prepping for a day ruling my patch of backyard. “We’ll offer ’em something; a cut of the bones or a prime spot at Bark Buffet. We keep it friendly.”

A dog from the back, some Terrier with more bark than bite, contested, “But they’ll want a paw in everything!”

There’s a fine line in Pawsburgh between rolling over and showing who’s leading the pack, and I walked that tightrope like one of those fancily-clad poodles at Canine Couture Clothing.

“You know what they say,” I mused aloud, careful to temper my tone with the charm of a pampered pooch post-grooming, “you scratch my back, I slobber on yours.”

The deal had to be carefully negotiated, a perfectly thrown ball to fetch the best from both worlds. Yet as we jawed over the plans, a bark – louder than the clang of dishes at Canine’s Cuisine – erupted outside.

I don’t mind admitting that chaos is as much a part of Pawsburgh as tail wagging. By the time we sorted our fur and attitudes, I’d fixed my ear-floppy gaze upon an unruly pile of mail on the floor, courtesy of our not-so-beloved parcel bringer.

“Delivery,” I deadpanned, “and without so much as a single bark of warning.”

There it was, amidst the envelopes and flyers: an invitation to ‘Happy Hounds Dog Walking.’ They pitched it as a gesture of friendship, but I read between the lines like a hidden treat beneath the sofa cushions—it was a lure, and the hook smelt of espionage.

I looked at my gathered confur-rades, each waiting for me to sniff out our next move.
“We’ll play their game,” I asserted with cold-nosed resolve, “but we do it our way. And remember—family sticks together, through every yip, yap, and howl.”

In the flickering shadows, I led them, Leia, the loyal-hearted guardian of both turf and kin. For even in the magical town of Pawsburgh, where the tales run wild, every mutt knows it’s not just about chasing your tail; it’s about knowing which tails to chase.

The End.