Hey there!

I gallivanted into victory at the Pet Games, outpacing rivals with my crew, Finley & Daisy, by my side. We sprinted, strategized, and savored the spoils as one. Pawsburgh now echoes our triumph and camaraderie. This dog’s tale is one of unity, zest, and a pie shared – a story I’m stoked to share with you.

Catch ya on the flip side,
Apollo 🐾🏆

Listen to the story here

I must confess, dear reader, as I saunter through the glistening gates of Diamond Doberman Dunes, that I, Apollo, am no ordinary hound. With an air most grand, my days in Pawsburgh unfurl like the richest tapestries woven of adventure and camaraderie. But today, the sun crowns the horizon with a peculiar intent.

‘Twas an affair of esteem that beckoned me to the dunes. The Pet Games, they called it, a competition of valor and wit where neighborhoods clash for glory. My heart pounded with anticipation and a spark of that well-known Apollo mischief that shimmered in my eyes. I stood amidst dogdom’s elite, my patchwork fur warmed by a sun made bold by the jamboree.

Our arena, a sandy coliseum where flags emblazoned with canines of all creeds crowned the air with their flapping, soared above the Diamond Doberman Dunes. It was here, betwixt Schnauzer Street and Sapphire Schnauzer Street, under the watchful gaze of our ancestors, that we would proclaim our mettle.

“My dear chums, Finley and Daisy!” I bellowed, a grin splitting my muzzle with unrestrained mirth, “Fortune’s wheel spins yet again! Shall we face the trial apart, or side by side like the pack we are? As they say at Canine Kabobs after a day’s frolic, ‘The more the merrier!'”

Finley, with his whiskers steeped in wisdom, agreed with a nod, sagely claiming, “In unity, dear Apollo, we find strength.” Daisy, with her tail a rapid metronome of elation, bounced in assent.

And so, we strategized over a last meal at Pawfect Pastries, relishing pup’s parfaits and buttery treats, avoiding at all costs—for my sake—the nefarious citrus that could sour my spirit and my stomach. With bellies full and spirits emboldened, we ambled over to the market where The Wagging Tail Bookstore, The Barking Boutique, and Woof and Whisker Wellness Center bid us luck with lighthearted barks.

Then the games commenced.

The challenge: a triathlon of fortitude. A dash from the Dunes to Pup’s Parfait, a duet of daring agility and cunning through an urban maze of delights and distractions, and a finale in the town square, where a platter of Sam’s meat pies awaited the triumphant maw.

Off we sped, muscles rippling and coats a-shimmer. Daisy, with legs churning like pistons, bounded ahead. Amusement danced in Finley’s orbs, the cunning rascal, as he edged me out. But as the dunes gave way to Schnauzer Street, it was I who leaned into my lineage’s swell—the Boxer’s brawn, the Cane Corso’s might.

Through the maze we darted, dodging scents designed to tempt and delectable diversions. I whisked past a Pup’s Parfait stand, my will made of sterner stuff. For pride, not pastries, fueled my fervor now.

Then, amidst Sapphire Schnauzer Street’s sparkling promenade, I emerged. The square loomed, my nose twitching from the scent of Sam’s savory conquest: those meat pies. With a burst of speed, I crossed the threshold, friends at flank, to victory!

As we stood, chests heaving, a crowd of kin gathered. Muzzles parted in cheers, tails trumpeting our tale. The pie—to the victor it beckoned with buttery whispers—but I, Apollo, knew better. Together, we won; together, we feast.

To Pawsburgh I belong, my story it sings amongst the hallowed halls and sun-kissed streets. My tail wags to the rhythm of its heart. For here, within its bounds, we are infinite, each of us woven into the other’s saga. And now, dear reader, you have partaken in mine.

The End.