Hey Charlie,

Just wanted to say, sneaking out has never felt so good! I’ve had a blast being Pawsburgh’s secret night-time glam-diva, magnifying our Rottweiler rep at the salon, while also playing chew-toy-cupid and philosophy whisperer for Magnus and his zany crew. Don’t fret, I’m back and brought some ‘mysterious’ goodies for you. Love you and the fam, even if I’m the queen of moonlight mischief. 💅🐾

Sweet dreams,
Karlee

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There’s an art to sneaking out to Pawsburgh, and I like to think I’ve mastered it. The key is to tread lightly and absolutely avoid the squeaky third step. And no matter how delicious that leftover lasagna smells, do not – I repeat, do not – get distracted by the fridge.

So there I was, a sleek shadow slipping out the dog flap, my heart pounding like a drumroll in anticipation of the enchanting lights of Lhasa Lane. The night was crisp, with the scent of adventure hanging thickly in the air. I imagined Charlie snoring softly under his duvet, oblivious to my nocturnal escapades. I felt a pang of guilt for leaving him, but the call of Pawsburgh was irresistible.

The first stop on my agenda was The Pampered Pooch Salon because a Rottweiler has got to maintain her image, right? Maggie, the manicurist, greeted me with her usual Poodle flair. “Karlee, darling, you’re just in time! We have a new blackberry shampoo that’ll make that mahogany fur of yours dazzle in the moonlight!”

“Only if it comes with a side of cheese,” I quipped, settling into the suds like it was my rightful throne. Explaining to a Poodle about the finer things in life, like cheese, is like explaining quantum physics to a cat – possible, but supremely exerting.

Post-glam session, my dear friend Magnus was waiting outside. He had that look – the one that spells ‘family drama’ in bold, capital letters. Without a word, I knew the Dane family gathering had gone sideways. Again. We strolled in purposeful silence to Pup’s Paella for an emergency nosh and debrief.

You see, in Pawsburgh, families aren’t defined by breed, but by the true bond of shared chew toys and back scratches. And it doesn’t take a pet psychic to see that Magnus’ clan was more disjointed than a feline’s attention span during laser tag.

As we settled into the familiar aromas of saffron and seafood, Magnus laid out his troubles. “Karlee,” he sighed, “Barkley wants to drop out of obedience school to join a rock band. Fifi is having a litter with a nomadic Chihuahua, and Mom’s threatening to move to Basenji Bay to ‘find herself’.”

I chewed thoughtfully on a shrimp tail, considering how to dispense my Rottweiler wisdom. “Magnus, families are like a mix of chew toys. Each one is unique, some squeak, some are tough, some are just… there. But in the end, they’re all good for something.” As he pondered my words, I felt a rush of appreciation for my own family – both the two-legged and four-legged kind.

Before we parted ways, I made a detour to Pawsitively Purrfect Pet Store to pick up new chew toys for Charlie to stumble upon – his human joy at these ‘mysterious’ gifts was always worth the charade.

Then, with the stars as my guide, I jogged home to the stillness of my abode. Cresthill Park was on the way, and I couldn’t resist a quick visit to the ancient oak. Under its whispering leaves, I reflected on my night’s adventures – the new shampoo, Magnus’ existential crisis, the chew toys tucked away in my collar.

Family – whether you find it in Pawsburgh or within the warm walls of your human’s den – is messy, complicated, and downright baffling at times. But just like my detour through the park, it’s always worth the journey.

As the horizon bloomed with the first blush of dawn, I returned to my home, nestled snugly beside Charlie as if I’d never left. As his sleepy hand found my glossy coat, I closed my eyes, my heart content with the secrets of the night and the simple comfort of belonging.

The End.