Hey there,

What a day in Pawsburgh! Opened a magical chest at Kelpie Keys and found myself in a sunbeam-soaked promenade for dogs. Tasted celestial crepes, got a memory-woven coat, and can’t wait to share these sunbeam tales with Sam. He has no clue about the adventures his Huddy is having!

Wags and woofs,
Hudson 🐾✨

Listen to the story here

Ah, Pawsburgh, a haven for us dogs that goes beyond the sniff of any human. Now, let me take you through a day that still tickles my tail with disbelief; a supernaturally splendid soiree, if you will. You see, on this particular morn, as Sam turned the key to lock up before heading to his bakery, I nuzzled the blue elephant in my bed, a subtle wink to the escapades that awaited.

I trotted towards Pointer Pier, the warm Pawsburgh sun glistening off my chocolate coat. It wasn’t long before I heard the wondrous ripples of the water lapping against the dock, and Maisie’s enthusiastic yap lifted my spirits. “Hudson! You’ll never guess what Duke found at the Kelpie Keys!” she yelped as she sped towards me.

“My dear Maisie,” I barked, “do tell.” As much as I was the sturdy trunk in a forest of capering critters, even my sturdy limbs shook with excitement.

She led me beyond the Bounds of Belief – the earthly term for it might be ‘invisible’, but here, it was as real as the roast chicken I so adored – to where old Duke stood resolute by an ancient chest, paws trembling slightly.

“Unearthed by time and tide, I dare divulge!” Duke’s voice boomed.

Throwing the chest open, a light as soft as Sam’s kitchen glows escaped. “T’is not merely a box, but a portal,” Duke hesitated. “A portal to doghood’s each and every sunbeam.”

I moved closer, for curiosity had always been my canine compass. “A leap into the very chase I cherish,” I thought, my heart aflutter. “Maisie, Duke, I shall enter!”

I nosed my way into the box, the scent of ocean mingling with traces of bygone bones. Suddenly the world spun, my ears filled with yips and yowls of many a merry mutt.

And there I was. Papillon Promenade, but not as we knew it. Spirals of spectral sunbeams adorned the sky, like ribbons at a fair. Dogs of all sorts were bounding, leaping, utterly set in swoon by the supernal display. And I, Hudson the Chocolate Lab, took my place among them.

“What tales I’ll tell Sam tonight,” I woofed with wonder. But wait, the sun never set here; no shadows to accompany the sunbeams.

A whiskery nudge interrupted my ruminations. “Looks like you could use a guide,” purred Whiskers, her sly glance taking in my amazement. Even in this celestial celebration, we shared that respectful nod, an interspecies understanding of epic proportions.

Led by Whiskers, we visited Corgi’s Crepes, the translucent treats dissolving into bursts of flavor upon a canine’s tongue. I might have tasted the celestial chicken crepe, or perhaps it was stardust. Whiskers insisted we avoid Paw-lickin’ Pancakes; her knowing look suggested something about lemons being interwoven in their otherworldly batter.

“The Tail Wagger’s Tailor, perhaps?” I proposed; my paws itched for a tangible souvenir.

“We tailor not cloth, but memories here,” the tailor, a wise Basset Hound adorned in specters of silk, informed.

And so, with a coat stitched from recollections, and my head held high, I stepped back through the portal as evening approached. The sunbeams of my living room had a nostalgic glint, a scent of something more, something beyond.

Sam returned home, his presence alone enough to part any clouds of worry. “Huddy, I swear, there were sunbeams in the bakery today,” he chuckled as he ruffled my fur, none the wiser of my ethereal escapade.

Though thunder may rumble, let it be known, in Pawsburgh’s heart and its spectral sunbeams, not even the frowns of the sky can tarnish the treasure of our tales.

The End.