Yo Mom, 🐾

Another wild night in Pawsburgh! Sniffed out secrets by Setter Shore, braved the beckonings of the Whispering Waves, and unearthed a door to…somewhere else (or when?). My paws are now pens, inking a trail in a tale woven with wonders. Updates soon but promise not to freak; after all, I’m Super Cooper, your intrepid four-legged seeker! 🚪✨

Licks & Wags,
Super Cooper 🦸‍♂️🐕

Listen to the story here

“And so it goes,” I bark quietly to myself—a token of that man Vonnegut, whom my human reads in soft whispers, as if reciting an incantation. But here in Pawsburgh, under the winking crescent of its moon, incantations are the least strange of occurrences.

The day—or night—begins like any other; with me, Cooper, on the trail of something whimsical, something *otherworldly*, venturing through Vizsla Valley under the twinkling canopy. In the blackness speared with star shards, the Valley feels like home, despite the jitters clawing at my underbelly. Ah, an adventure brews, and my heart thrums with the anticipation of a well-loved toy’s squeak.

Papillon Promenade is deserted. I pad softly; yet, my paws seem loud against the silence. The occasional gust of wind carries rumors and the rustle of unsolicited secrets. The promenade is a place where whispers hang heavy like morning dew, and tonight, they beckon.

Setter Shore is my destination, but something is *amiss*. The sea! It murmurs in cryptic tongues, lick-and-lapping at the sand with an urgency I’ve never heard before. Waves whisper in hushed fury, speaking of elements warped, of sandcastle dreams fraying at the edges.

I shake the sand from my paws, and the ground responds. The earth ripples; I swear it on my pig toy’s life. Unseen and unheard, something beckons from the deep, unfathomable beyond, and I know this is no ordinary nightly escapade.

Approaching Setter’s Steakhouse—a refuge for the famished and brave—I am greeted by the delectable scents of sizzling entrees as comforting as a human lap, but today’s indulgence carries a distinct flavor of dissent. “Cooper,” their scent calls out to me, seared with urgency amidst beef and marrowbone gravy, “seek the underbelly of Pawsburgh.”

My chums are nowhere to be seen—no majestic Pyrenees, no spirited Chihuahua clique. Only the echo of an invitation to the mysterious and the wild—the thrum of energy beneath Pawsburgh’s quaint veneer.

With each step toward The Fetching Feline Pet Emporium, time seems to play tricks, curving and folding like a well chewed toy. Within, a case of fish-shaped cookies lies agape, its treasures glowing, pulsing, throbbing with a rhythm synced to my racing heart.

The air crackles, tasting of static and the sweet tang of imminent rain. A voice, not unlike the poplar winds through ‘Vonnys’ Valley, speaks, “Cooper, guardian, the secret keeper, go to the place where reality bends as easily as a sunbeam.”

It directs me to the play park—the irony is not lost on me, that my most treasured Pawsburgh shall reveal its heart under the guise of my most restive domain. I am reluctant and calculating; my paws hesitant but ruled by an unnameable draw.

The park looms, a challenging silhouette defying the urban scape’s neon vulgarity. As I stand before the gates, the air shimmers—a curtain pulled away to reveal stagecraft so clever, even a dog’s loyalty might be duped.

I step forward, the unknown beckoning stronger than the surliest command to “Fetch!” Reality bends and sways like grass in a breeze, and the shimmering air parts to reveal…

A door. Not unusual, to be sure, except this door hangs mid-air, and the world beyond it is neither here nor there. It’s a boundary of the uncanny, where Pawsburgh’s secrets trade collars with mundane trivialities.

And so I cross the threshold. Because a dog’s place in the world is not as fixed as the harness of routine, an adventurer at heart, human’s companion second, and always, always curious.

I emerge not where, but *when* else. The future? The past? Or perhaps a nether-time of sorts, crafted from the fantastical. There’s more to this place than fire hydrants and treats, and the truth lies hidden, a buried bone in unturned earth.

I am Cooper. And my tale—seasoned with the essence of Pawsburgh—is only just beginning.

The End.