Hey Mom,

Just saved the world of Pawsburgh from another day of mundane monotony with my daring deeds and a dash of dachshund-driven deli delight! Navigated the Doberman Dunes, outswam Skye, and even got a glimpse of greatness at Barker’s Bakery. Diogi convinced me to unleash my inner hound and embrace the madness. Paws down, the best doggone adventure yet. I’m home now, tail waggin’ and all.

Licks and wags,
Resq 🐾🧁

Listen to the story here

There I was in the heat of the sun, the world around me lost in a haze of Doberman Dunes; the sand beneath my paws was a tapestry, warm and shifting, a reflection perhaps, of my own thoughts. “A dog’s gotta dream,” I thought to myself, giving life to the notion of audacious adventure.

I, Resq, found my heart thrumming with the rhythm of Pawsburgh, that mystical enclave where hounds like myself ran unfettered, far from the prying eyes of our humans. Barker’s Bakery loomed like an edible monument in the distance—my mind danced at the promise of a cookie, a little baked semblance of heaven, my name written all over it in imaginary icing.

Skye was beside me, her sleek black coat shimmering like the water ripples we both adored, her own dreams perhaps mirroring mine. “Splash and dash,” they say—that’s us, aquatic ballerinas performing our doggie paddle pas de deux. The everpresent Baby sat nearby, watching with eyes wise beyond her terrier years, her gaze carrying the weight of experience, a silent chaperone on our fanciful frolics.

Diogi, that frenzied Australian Shepherd, bounded around like a pinball laced with a whip of cunning. “Dive in,” he barked, the firebrand. There’s a poetry to his madness, a rhythm to his reckless call for rebellion that even a pup shy as I couldn’t ignore.

But let’s not drift too far, for distraction was never truly my beat. The pool, don’t forget the pool! My very own liquid sanctuary shimmering with the promise of a tranquil soak or an exuberant dive—whichever the moment’s mood summoned.

No, I wasn’t one for the tumult nor the thunder, that raucous cacophony sent me cowering, shivering, pining for the placid hush of my humane hearth or the gentle rustle of Mastiff Meadows where peace held court. Thunder, you thieving rogue, take your clamor and beg one! Leave me be in my serene retreat, the splash my delight, the ripple my solace.

Today though, today was a day for Topaz Terrier Town, a delightful detour from Mastiff Meadows filled with buzz, with potential. Diogi nuzzled me towards Dachshund’s Deli, the scent wafting out, a signal for my belly’s symphony to crescendo.

“Live a little,” he seemed to say, “Let shyness take the back seat and let gusto grab the wheel!” I admired his unbridled spirit, perhaps even envied, as I eyed my reflection in a shop window—a Canine Café fling across the street, the serene thrall of page-turners lurking within The Wagging Tail Bookstore.

The hyperbole of it all, it just pulled you in like a tall tale spinning off the tongue of an old mutt with too much time and too many memories.

We darted into The Doggie Daycare, the bouquet of friendly yaps and comforting woofs surrounding me, assuring me I wasn’t alone, never truly alone. The confab of tails wagging, a ludicrous dance we all knew the steps to—a secret shared by night, whispered back to day. Madness, I say. A beautiful, shared canine madness.

Would this day be etched in a journal, my paw print pressed beneath the recount of the wild, wistful adventures in Pawsburgh? Perhaps, with caramel crumbs and a damp, water-soaked edge for flair. For there, in Pawsburgh, beneath the ordinary canine veneer, thrummed an extraordinary tale—mine—a fur-laden odyssey rife with timid barks and the gusto of bounding into the unknown.

And so yonder I padded back to the human abode, the sun dipping low like a final bow, my soul a bit fuller, my tale a bit taller. But isn’t that what tails are for?

The End.