Hey there! Just a typical day in the life of Miss Daisy, Chihuahua extraordinaire: time-traveled through history, ran with dinosaurs, jazzed up the olden days, cheesed around the ’60s, and still made it back for a Pawsburgh nightcap. What can I say? I’ve got more zest than a pocketful of kibbles. 🐾✨ Catch you in the next era! – Miss D

Listen to the story here

Ah, Pawsburgh! The clandestine canine paradise, a place where every dog has its day – and night, for that matter. Can I just say being a Chihuahua in this realm is like being the queen of England… only cuter and with a better wardrobe. Trust me, I’ve seen pictures.

My usual Pawsburgh evenings involved trotting down to Kelpie Keys – the sunset there would put a Hollywood movie to shame. Just the other evening, I skittered through Pinscher Plaza, past The Pawfect Training Center (not that I need it), skimmed past Canine Couture Clothing (I might have lingered, but who’s asking?), and landed on – you guessed it – Poodle’s Pasta. Muffin and Cupcake, those poodle fashionistas, were there, twirling noodles with more grace than a pair of ballerinas.

But darling, let’s dish the dog chow; here’s where my tail truly gets a twist. I had ventured behind Paw-lickin’ Pancakes when I stumbled upon something wholly unordinary — a doggy door shimmering like the top of the Chrysler Building. Curiosity, stronger than the pull of a leash, nudged me closer. Naturally, I assumed the twins had pulled a fast one on me, but Miss Daisy doesn’t back down from a mystery!

Imagine my surprise when I pranced through that door and – whoosh! Tumbling through a cosmic fire hydrant, I landed kerplunk in the middle of a field, a golden ocean of wheat not unlike those back on Earth.

Was this time travel? It sure smelled like history, and not just because it was pre-fire-hydrant invention.

I must have looked as frazzled as a pug in a porcupine patch when I saw it: Stonehenge! “Oh, this is so retro,” I chortled, keenly aware no one was around to appreciate my exquisite wit.

Sensing an adventure, fur bristling with excitement, I tiptoed around the monoliths, Mr. Cluckles clenched in my maw. “So what are we doing here?” I enquired, appealing to the rubber chicken’s sage advice. He let out a mocking squeak – or was it supportive? One never knows with Mr. Cluckles.

A moment later, old Rufus popped in, paws skidding across the ancient grass. “Daisy, lassie, are you in control of this… contraption?” I could see the time-travel door ripple behind him, the Pantone color of adventure.

“Rufus, my dear wise fuzzball, I’m as surprised as you are!” I yelped with delight. “Let’s explore!”

Imagine it – a Chihuahua, a Labrador, and a squeaky chicken exploring prehistoric England. We could have started a band.

I’ll spare you the spiel about how we frolicked through history, chased by dinosaurs (terrifyingly tall creatures – not fans, I can assure you), causing a ruckus at the coronation of Queen Elizabeth (lots of pointy things and— OH! the drapes!), and even photo-bombing the first-ever snapshot (they’ll never know).

But the pièce de résistance, before we scurried back to Pawsburgh, was a stopover in the 1960s where we sniffed out…. yes, a cheese shop. There were no green beans to screw up this Chihuahua’s cheesetastic reverie. The fab wheels, the groovy threads – if I had thumbs, I’d be snapping them in rhythm.

Taking one last lick of the time-traveling lollipop, off we scampered, back through the shimmery doggy door, Muffin and Cupcake gazing at us in utter bewilderment. “Oh girls, if only collars could talk,” I said with a wink.

And so, in the curtain call of the night, as the stars above Pawsburgh twinkled with celestial gossip, I once again proved that the world, past, present, or future, is simply too vast for one small dog to explore alone. Maybe that’s why they say it’s not about the size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog. Or in my case, the size of the wanderlust in one tiny, time-traveling Chihuahua named Miss Daisy.

The End.

Share This Story: