Hey Mom,

Just wrapped up another day in Pawsburgh. I’m knee-deep in a tail-wagging whodunit involving eerie howls and shadowy figures. Might just be the town’s biggest bone to chew yet. Found a book, uncovered secrets, but no big reveals… yet. Sometimes life’s like an unsolvable puzzle, or a Squeaky Ball under the couch, you know? Don’t worry, I’m still taking time to soak up the sun. More tales to come!

Nose boops,
Remy 🐾

Listen to the story here

There’s something about Pawsburgh that makes the fur on my neck stand on end, in a good way. It’s not just the fire hydrants, which are gloriously abundant, or the fact that all the steak is served medium rare—just the way we like it. No, it’s the mysteries that tickle my whiskers, the unexplained phenomena that get my paws twitching. Call me Remy, the mixed-mix sleuth with a nose for the peculiar and the stomach for peanut butter.

So listen: It was a day like any other in Pawsburgh. The sun was high and feeling particularly generous with its warm embraces. I was lounging in Spaniel Springs, that sunny state of being that exists wherever there’s a golden ray to lay under. Then she bounded up, Daisy, with tail beating to the tune of urgency.

“Remy, I’ve heard something strange,” she barked. “At Hound Heights, there’s a howl that isn’t quite canine.”

My ears perked. This wasn’t the first time we’d tangled with the uncanny. We set off with the promise of curious sniffing. No day for sunbathing, this. Our adventure called.

We trotted past The Woofy Bakery, where the smell of freshly baked treats was a symphony of temptation. But there was no time for scones or the delightful paradox of the dog-friendly chocolate. We had a mystery to unravel.

As we approahed Hound Heights, I found the air thick with silent anticipation. Daisy let out a low growl, something was off. Indeed, it was a howl, but not the usual, happy bark. It was more like… well, like a vacuum cleaner mixed with a blender, the horror of domestic appliances in one sound.

We talked to the locals. A pug named Penelope mentioned a shifting shadow that lurked behind the Dog’s Delicacies. A dachshund named Doug had seen lights in the sky that weren’t stars. Fishy, right? Aliens? Ghosts? I don’t know. That’s the thrill.

In classic Vonnegut style, as I chew on this odd occurrence, the irony of life isn’t lost on me. All this unexplained phenomena, and yet, I’m a talking dog who’s allergic to the vacuum cleaner. So it goes.

Keep in mind, the place was more alive than Retriever’s Restaurant at dinnertime. Hound Heights was bustling with four-legged beings, tails wagging in rhythm to the sounds of canine chit-chat. But even in the cheer, the strange howl hung in the background like forbidden fruit.

We dipped into The Wagging Tail Bookstore searching for answers. I investigated a suspicious gap on the shelf between ‘Obedience’ and ‘The Art of Tail-Chasing’. A glowing book appeared, reading “Pawsburgh’s Uncovered Truths.” I flipped through the pages with my snout, only to discover tales of Pawsburgh’s ancient secret society. Eye-widening stuff.

The day dissolved into evening’s tender clutch, and with it, clues seemed to dance away, nimble as a pup. Daisy and I retired at Barking Brunch. As we nibbled our biscuits and watched the setting sun cast lolloping shadows ’round Basenji Bay, it struck me.

Life’s riddles aren’t meant for solving every time, much like the location of the ever-elusive Squeaky Ball once it’s rolled under the couch. And while I don’t have all the answers, I’ve got tales enough to keep my human pondering for hours.

Tomorrow, perhaps, is another day for investigation. Or maybe I’ll just go back to Spaniel Springs to think, and bask some more in peace. It’s not Thursday until it happens, and anyway, Thursdays are for sunbathing.

So it goes.

The End.

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