“Dad, you won’t believe it! My day began with a chase with Grogu who turned into a dragon! We ended up at a feast, where my final challenge was to eat lettuce – the nemesis for any Bulldog. With Pawsburgh watching, I managed to finish it, to everyone’s delight. Today I learned even an old Bulldog like me can still surprise himself with new tricks. Tomorrow, we dance another dawn. – Growlbert”

Listen to the story here

As the first blush of dawn crept over the human world, I, Albert, mildly crossing the threshold of dream and waking, found myself snout to snout with a most peculiar sight. Grogu, my trusty stuffed aide-de-camp, seemed to glow with a certain ethereal mischief. “Certainly a trick of the morning light,” I muttered to myself, but before the thought fully formed, Grogu winked—yes, you read right—winked, and scampered away on wee plush legs!

Now, I confess, it’s not every day an inanimate object initiates a game of chase, least of all before breakfast, but I’m no common cur; I’m a resident of Pawsburgh, after all. So, with the gusto of a pup discovering his tail, I gave chase—all the way to the mystic confines of Pointer Pier, a most peculiar landmark of our magical town.

Pointer Pier on a day like today was very different. The air throbbed with enchantment as carousel music played from nowhere and everywhere, a tune you’d expect in a place where merry-go-round horses break into a wild gallop, and leap off to join the circus. Today, Pointer Pier seemed even more alive—if that was at all doggonely possible.

Grogu bounded ahead, surprisingly fleet of plush, leading me on a spirited dance through the Cocker Courtyard, bypassing Dachshund’s Deli and a rather convincing illusion of Baker, who tipped his make-believe hat and greeted me with an “It’s never early for an adventure, Albert, my boy.” A nod and a wink, but I had no time for pleasantries—not with Grogu pelting towards Topaz Terrier Town.

The Terrier Town was abuzz with a different kind of energy. The shopfronts of The Canine Cafe and The Furry Friends Art Gallery shimmered, hinting at other realms. Leaning in closer to The Canine Cafe, I fancied I heard the clinking of teacups from a Mad Hatter’s tea party.

“Focus, Albert,” I chuffed to myself. With each step, fantastical creatures greeted me—whether imaginary or born of Pawsburgh’s enchantment, who could say? There was a poodle with wings, I kid you not, and a troop of corgi centaurs organizing a race. I tell you, they were plotting the course, complete with hurdles made of chew toys!

And then, in the heart of Topaz Terrier Town, the chase came to an abrupt pause. Grogu, with a flip and a flourish, transformed midair into a grand dragon, complete with emerald scales and a twinkle in his eye. He roared a plushy roar, echoing with laughter more than menace, and with a snort and a squint, I faced him down.

“So this is the challenge, then?” I huffed, feeling the maverick in my soul flare up.

Grogu—now, the Grogu Dragon—nodded sagely, extending a fluffy claw towards the Snout Snacks, where a veritable feast was laid out. All manner of dogdom’s delights towered before us, but—lo and behold—in the center was the largest bowl of lettuce you ever saw.

Grogu nudged the bowl with his snout, and I remember thinking, “You cheeky dragon. Don’t you know Albert’s canine compendium of culinary no-goes?” Lettuce being the foregone chapter, of course.

But myths and challenges are the marrow of Pawsburgh’s bones, and so, I approached, head high and brow furrowed. The townsfolk gathered, mystic and mundane alike: Lilly hopped through the crowd, Lil Rosie’s tail wagged with anticipation, and the echo of Baker’s drawl assured them, “He’ll do it, just you watch.”

With the eyes of Pawsburgh upon me, I leaned towards the leafy nemesis, but as my snout made contact, I felt a rush—a whirlwind of enchantment—a sensation most uncanny for a Bulldog of my stature. The lettuce vanished, leaving behind only a titillating crunch.

Grogu Dragon beamed. “The impossible is the everyday in Pawsburgh!” he seemed to say without words. And there was chuckling, and there was clapping, and there was a thrumming of life that only a place like Pawsburgh could weave.

In that magnificent mayhem of magic and fur, I learned even an old Bulldog like me could find new tricks in the tail spins of fantasy. And when the adventure waned, and the last sparkle of magic simmered, I ambled home under the awakening sky, content with the knowledge that my Pawsburgh friends had once again shared an unforgettable tale, and with it, the sly wink of Grogu waiting to dance another dawn.