Hey, Mom 👋

What a night! Played the hero in Pawsburgh’s hush-hush case: Mimi’s rescue. We outsmarted sneaky Petnappers with teamwork and a squeaky bone decoy. Furry fists flew, but all’s well & the pack is tight. Even made the moon wink. Home safe, tail wagging 🌙🐾.

Hugs, Pika-Pal

Listen to the story here

The moon had tucked itself behind a cloud the night Mimi vanished—plucked from Saluki Sands without a howl or a whisper. When the news hit Pawsburgh, the air felt tight, clung to fur like morning dew as I, Pikachu, received the bark that set my heart racing.

My paws drummed against the cobblestone as I dashed through Basenji Bay, the tang of ocean mingling with a lingering dread. Max awaited, shoulders like ships in dock, muscles tense beneath his brindle fur.

“Took your time, Pikachu,” he rumbled, a smile betraying his faux annoyance.

“Fashionably late, dear Max,” I bantered back, unrestrained mischief in my eyes. “So, what’s the scheme? A quick caper? A silent paw operation?”

“No caper, pal. Mimi’s in a real pickle this time,” Max’s voice grew solemn.

We summoned the pack, the ragtag agents of Pawsburgh: there was Bella, the Beagle, with her nose that could suss out the unsussable; Duke, the Dalmatian, communications extraordinaire; and Luna, the Labradoodle, master of disguise.

A plan hatched on the terracotta tiles of Collie’s Cuisine, between bites of chicken so divine I almost forgot the perils ahead. Almost.

“We split up. Bella, Duke, you track her scent and keep your collars close,” I instructed. “Luna, transform—a cat, a bird, whatever you need to survey. Max, you’re with me. We’re the brute and the brains.”

Tails wagging in resolve, we dispersed into the velvet night.

Upon reaching Eskimo Estuary, the air turned cold as the trail. “Nothing,” Bella reported, ears drooping like soggy leaves. “She’s vanished like a treat upon Max’s tongue.”

“Alright, let’s think,” I paced, circling my squeaky bone, contemplating our next move. Then, with the squeal of rubber, inspiration struck. “The Petnappers! They lurk these parts, hunting collectible squeak toys. They must’ve pegged Mimi as a limited edition!”

Max’s jaw stiffened, “Bilge rats. So what now?”

“Now we set a trap.” I glanced at my bone. “Bait they cannot resist.”

We heard them before we saw them, growling low in their gruff doggish dialect. Mimi, looking every bit the rare collectible in their icy grasp.

The pack emerged from shadows as Duke killed the streetlights and Bella led the charge. The Petnappers, startled by our numbers, shifted like ripples on water. I sprang forward, my toy bone held high.

“Argh, it’s the dark Poodle!” one cried.

“I ain’t just any Poodle, you mongrels!” I lambasted with Richard Curtis charm. “Unhand that Chihuahua or face the bite of exclusivity!”

They leapt forward, paws flailing. Max’s growl was thunder as he cannoned into the fray; Luna flashed between forms so fast they skittered in confusion.

The fight was a blurry jig of fur and flailing limbs until the Petnappers, weary and outwitted, yapped their surrender and set Mimi free.

Mimi scampered, a streak of diminutive defiance. “Took you long enough,” she managed, her pride untouched.

The pack circled around, an embrace of barks and affectionate nudges.

As dawn’s light threatened to spill over the horizon, we returned to our homes, secret safe from any human eye. The tale of our midnight mission would be one for the Pawsburgh legends—a story shared in whispers and wagging tails.

Lying beside Mom, the adventure but a whisper in the city’s slumber, I held my squeaky bone to the heart and smiled. Pawsburgh was once again complete. And Pikachu? He was more than a mere Toy Poodle. He was a protector, a heart as grand as any canine tale ever told.

The End.