Hey fam! 😄🐾 Today’s Pawsburgh tale had me, good ol’ Frank the Tank, sniffing out spectral lights at the Emerald Estuary. Turns out our canine corner’s got more secrets than the cookie jar on top of the fridge! Joined the tail-wagging investigation squad; we’re diving nose-first into the mystery. Will bark more updates soon. Stay pawesome! – Frank the Tank 🐶🔍✨

Listen to the story here

So there I was, strolling down Whippet Way, my paws feeling the familiar cobblestone, a saccharine scent of bakery delights wafting through the air. Pawsburgh was my escape, the hidden borough where us canines slip off to when the humans are none the wiser. My jaunt would usually end at The Pooch Playhouse, but not today. Today was different. Frankly (pun intended), it felt a bit…peculiar.

My routine was simple: a visit to The Snooty Snout Boutique for a sniff of the latest trends, maybe a quick stop at The Barking Boutique for a choice chew toy. But as I made my way to Snout Snacks for my usual sardine-and-chicken croquette, a shiver ran down my spine—rain. The mere feeling in the air made my fur stand on end; my spirits dampened like a chew toy left out in a storm.

I brushed off the uneasy gut-gut-gurgling as a by-product of my well-known rain aversion, reminding myself that Pawsburgh skies rarely wept. Instead, I sauntered into Pooch’s Pizzeria, the golden light and yeasty aura a balm to my rainy-day blues. I always liked it here. The murmur of mutts and panting of pals was usually comforting, but today—noise. Buzzing, actually—a strange static cling that made my ears prick up in alarm.

As I nestled into a booth (legally speaking, I think?), I tuned into the barkter around me. The curly-tailed hounds at table five mentioned Whippet Way, their voices laced with urgency. I feigned interest in my slice, though let’s be honest, sardines and chicken are enough to capture any dog’s undivided attention.

“You hear about the Emerald Eskimo Estuary?” one whispered, his eyes wide as saucers.

“The lights, they’re…” another trailed off, his voice a low rumble.

I couldn’t help it. My snout was in. “Guys, what lights?”

Their gazes shifted, surprise etched on their furry mugs that I, the gentle giant Frank, would dare to intrude. But we weren’t strangers, not really. We were confidants, friends who’d weathered more storms than just my dreaded rain.

“Frank, buddy,” the curly-tailed dog stammered, as if explaining quantum mechanics to a pup. “Something’s iffy at the estuary. Lights shimmering, weird…stuff happening. It’s like watching the finale of a fireworks show, but with no sound and, um, more ominous.”

I chewed thoughtfully on my crust. Pawsburgh was a sanctuary, a place where the extraordinary replaced the ordinary—but this? This was different. This wasn’t a quirky gnome coming to life in the backyard; this was Stranger Pets different.

I could feel a beckoning. A pull, if you will. High-tailing it out of there felt tempting (I could already feel the comfort of my backyard calling), but my friends’ unease echoed in my ribs. They needed me, rain or strange, shimmering terrors be darned.

The journey to the estuary was silent, save for our synchronized trotting. Hound Heights loomed in the distance, the houses like relics of a bygone area. We rounded the bend, and there it was—the Emerald Eskimo Estuary, alight with an eerie glow. Colors of another palette, whirling and dancing like those gnome figurines I so adored.

What was causing it? Space squirrels? Gnomes from an alternative dimension? A disco ball convention gone terribly astray? My heart matched the frenetic pulse of the lights, but we Bernese, we’re built sturdy, my friends.

With my loyal pals flanking my sides, we inched forward, ready to unravel the mystery embraced by what the humans called ‘the upside-down’—strange, otherworldly, but tail-waggingly exciting.

This is Frank, ever noble, and, I might add, newly adventurous, signing off from a day in Pawsburgh where the magic is real, and the pizza is always served with a side of enigma. Stay tuned, stay curious, and for dog’s sake—keep sniffing out the strange.

The End.