Hey Edna 🐾,

Today was epic! Unraveled a parade mystery with Max & Bella, turned chaos into cheers, and even befriended an alien! Pawsburg’s Thanksgiving is all about community – now with a cosmic twist. Get ready for some tail-waggin’ tales tonight!

Wags & Whiskers,
Walee the Wonderpup 🦴🚀

Listen to the story here

It was a crisp November morn’ in Pawsburg, and yours truly, Walee the Corgi, took my usual jaunt through the cobble-stoned streets, my coat shimmering like a knight’s armor under the sun. My soulful eyes spied the bunting and streamers lining the rooftops, the sweet promise of the annual Thanksgiving Day parade lingering in the air. Oh, the stories I would spin for dear Edna after today’s romp!

But hark—what was this? A clatter and bang that wasn’t the joyous sound of parade drums. I darted around the corner, ears perked up with curiosity that bordered the finest line of mischief.

“Egad!” There, amidst the noble floats of Bloodhound Bluffs, was chaos untold. Decorations strewn about like tossed salad, the turkey float looking more plucked than proud. A dastardly deed was afoot, and I, valiant though vertically challenged, was set to sniff it out.

Rallying the troops—it’s what I do. I scurried to Beagle Bagels where Max noshed on a everything bagel sans garlic (canine breath concerns, you understand).

“Max, m’lad, we’ve got a parade to save!” I barked.

He glanced up, crumbs decorating his whiskers: “Lead the way, Admiral Walee!”

Next was Bella, the spaniel who could twirl through puddles like a ballerina through the Nutcracker pirouettes.

“Bella! Shun the splash and join the dash. Pawsburg needs us!”

Her ears perked, “A soggy parade won’t do. I’m with you!”

Together, the three musketeers of Pawsburg assembled a most scruffy and delightful brigade, commencing a canter through the town’s landmarks: Pearl Papillon Promenade, the Doggone Deli, and even the hallowed Howling Husky Hardware Store.

The clues were as scattered as my thoughts during fireworks. A strange, iridescent ooze beside the toppled floats; a scent that was neither chicken nor beef nor salmon, but otherworldly – like the stuff of outer space kibbles.

“That’s no Earth-born ooze,” Max quivered with the resonance of Sherlock’s Holmes. Clue by interstellar clue, we traced the saboteur’s steps, our tails wagging in furious deduction.

“You’d think an alien would have more respect for town festivities,” I pondered aloud.

A shadow flickered near the Bark-n-Bite Bistro. We crept forth, and there it was, a figure both forlorn and so obviously not from ’round these parts.

“Take me to your leader,” it droned in a monotone that would make HAL 9000 seem jolly.

Bella bounced forward, “No need for such formalities. You’ve caused quite the canine conundrum, and we wish to parlay.”

The alien, all eyes and tentacles, drooped. It had hoped to be a part of something, to understand this tradition of thankfulness, but its approach had been… well, less than ideal.

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it, disrupting our parade,” I yipped with a grin. It’s hard to stay stern when you’re a Corgi.

Yet, kindness and understanding, that’s the Pawsburg way. Instead of gnarling teeth, we offered an invitation. With its dexterous appendages, the alien repaired the floats better than new, hung decorations with the efficiency of an entire Doggie Daycare crew, and even prepared an out-of-this-world dish for the Doggone Deli (nothing citrus, mind you).

And so, the parade wound through the streets with all the fanfare and none of the folly, an alien leading the march beside me, a new member of our odd but loving community.

Tales of bravery? Sure. But more so, tales of inclusion and the power of a good snoot-boop to the heart. As we gathered at the banquet after the procession – fur, tentacles, and all – I woofed with conviction, “Let it be known, true thankfulness is welcoming all to our home.”

Dear Edna would be in for quite the story tonight. The tale of Walee and the Thanksgiving Day Parade that saved more than just the festivities—it saved a friendship across the cosmos.

The End.