Hey human!

Just a typical night thwarting Clawdette’s dastardly “Catastrotree” with my furry crew in Pawsburgh. Successfully saved us all from eternal baths using my charm, fluff, and a tennis ball of tricks. Rest easy – your hero on four paws always lands on her feet (even without the carrots for breakfast, thanks).

Fuzz and courage,
Willow 🐾✨

Listen to the story here

In the twilight sliver between the final human snore and the chirp of the dawn’s first bird, I, Willow—the Samoyed with a coat so bright it could guide ships through fog—found myself trotting towards Pawsburgh, my escape to a world unbound by leashes and “Stay.” Today’s mission wasn’t just an ordinary prance through Mastiff Meadows; it was to stop Clawdette, the villainous Siamese with a taste for world (and occasional fish) domination.

Benny the Boxer had briefed me over a biscuit at Barker’s Bakery, crumbs tumbling from his mouth as he spoke, something about Clawdette concocting a catastrophic contraption, coined—the “Catastrotree.” It was rumoured to unleash a torrent of never-ending baths unto Pawsburgh. A shiver ruffled my snow-like fur at the thought. We use mud as camouflage, not for cosmetic facials.

Samoyed Square was where the rendezvous was set, under the solemn silver gaze of the statue of Saint Rover. Luna, wagging her tail like a too-joyous metronome—a Labrador trait—and Tinker, who’s more feline than dog but an essential cog in our merry band, were already there, whisper-plotting. Tinker, a tabby, is the McGyver of our group; if there’s a sticky door or a jammed window, her agile paws are the ones you’d want.

“You got the tennis ball, Willow?” Luna was never one to mince words, likely because she never truly dealt with the horror of carrots in her kibble.

I rolled the ball towards her, a soft thud on the cobblestones. It carried the weight of our trust—the hidden key to the Catastrotree was snug within its neon fuzziness. All those afternoons spent playing fetch weren’t merely for fun; they were practice for moments like these.

The plan was set. Benny would distract with his boisterous barks at Onyx Otterhound Oasis, while Luna would dart to disarm the doomsday device. My part? To look as unsuspicious as a Samoyed in a tiara at The Groom Room while having a nose for Tinker’s signals.

We trotted to Clawdette’s lair, Best in Show Photography—a front for her dastardly deeds. She wasn’t a fan of her own reflection, apparently. Within minutes, we heard Benny’s bark, bellowing through the silence like a foghorn of disruption breaking the calm.

I glided in, with the pristine obliviousness of one who might simply be in the market for a poodle perm. Clawdette was naturally there, purring over blueprints, so absorbed that I, too, was tempted to know what hairball of chaos she was cooking up.

Tinker slinked underneath the sidestepping shadow of my fluff, her steps silent, invisible. With a swift paw, she flicked the tennis ball towards the Catastrotree, and it split open, revealing the intricate innards of Clawdette’s chaos. Luna, understanding the cue, leaped and land with the finesse of an Olympic hurdler, pressing her nose to panels in swift sequence.

The Catastrotree’s limbs lowered, the threat of bath time diminished to a mere drip in the backdrop of an action-packed night. Clawdette, sensing the unraveling of her plan, spat a hiss that would chill a sphinx. But, alas, she knew when she was licked.

As sunrays breached the horizon, we made our exits. Dashing through the fur-fluffing fragrances of Dog’s Delicacies and the mutterings of morning merchants at The Snooty Snout Boutique, I stuck to the episodic nature of our escapades. We dispersed just in time, making our way back to our respective earthly homes before the humans would unsettle their slumbers.

Another claw-ful crisis averted, narratives for our humans packed within my tennis ball of secret compartments. With my spectacular coat once again gleaming in the sun’s caress, I returned home—a hero in plain sight. And for breakfast? Chicken treats, no carrots, please. I’ll leave those for Clawdette, a humbling snack for her contemplation of a fur free future.

The End.