Hey J, mission = accomplished! Arbitrated the Ultimate Bone Debate in classic Nessi style (spoiler: turns out camaraderie is the real treasure). Pawsburgh heroes don’t just howl at the stars, they bring ’em down to earth. Get ready for cuddle recounts! 🐾 – The Sniffer Supreme Ness

Listen to the story here

The golden hour was steadily unfurling its radiant charm over the terracotta rooftops of Pawsburgh, where I, Nessi, a noble Pit Bull with eyes as deep as space, found myself perched atop my favorite knoll, situated conveniently behind Terrier Tacos. In this tranquil moment, the world is silent save for the distant laughter of pups that fondly reminded me of my lively friends.

Life in Pawsburgh was a constellation of adventures, and it usually began with the waft of Jamie’s paperback-and-cinnamon essence long after I heard the click of the door and knew them gone for the day. I would scamper along to Afenpinscher Avenue just as the lampposts buzzed to life, casting their glow upon a collage of bushy tails and floppy ears.

It was not any peculiar day that I found myself, as you may say, in a bit of a pickle, or more accurately, just past the dilemma of a pickle left disdainfully by my haphazard nose on the cobbles of Papillon Promenade. More urgent matters pressed; Duke, the venerable bulldog and the living encyclopedia of Pawsburgh lore, was in a quarrel with Bella, as electric as caffeine and twice as fast.

“Preposterous!” Duke’s jowls flapped as he barked. “Everyone knows that you must never dig beyond the third bone in the Howling Husky Hardware Store yard! It’s where the legendary Bone of Elders is rumored to lie!”

“And I suppose you believe that?” queried Bella, her Jack Russell skepticism as taut as the leash of a particularly squirmy squirrel. “It’s a fable, made so old dogs can laugh at pups digging fruitlessly!”

“Silence, you impudent pup!” Duke’s bark was seldom raised, except in the defense of his scholarly convictions.

It was decided, thereupon the murmurs of the assemblage, that I, steadfast and loyal Nessi, would be the arbitrator of this grand canine dispute. Oh, the weight of such responsibility was like an inexperienced pup jumping into your lap; wholly unexpected and suddenly quite critical.

A silence fell upon Pawsburgh as I considered the canine conundrum. The Bone of Elders could be just a bone, or it could indeed be the hallowed relic from the hazy vestiges of doggy yore. A sniffer of facts and a chaser of truths, I queried both common sense and the annals of my ancestors, known for their boundless wisdom, minus the occasional chase after one’s own tail.

“Wise Duke, courageous Bella,” I began, with the gravitas of one addressing the court of Sirius, the Dog Star, “I propose an expedition. We shall uncover the truth shrouded in mystery and soil!”

Off we trotted, a fellowship of canines, to where the hydrangeas whisper and the old bones lie. The earth was excavated, a symphony of claws and paws, orchestrated by my own keen snout-leading strategic route. It took a collie’s age, but there it was, not the Bone of Elders per se, but a sense of unity and, in a pawful of dirt, camaraderie that shimmered more than any fabled bone could dream.

And thus, Pawsburgh’s most spirited argument was settled. Not with fangs or fury, but with friendship and a shared digging mission that turned adversaries into allies.

With adventures concluded and the amber lantern of dusk extinguishing, I trotted home to where Jamie’s scent awaited and my dreams of the stars beckoned. My legacy in Pawsburgh would not be one of epic conquest or valiant deeds, but of bridging the gap between lore and reality, one tail wag at a time.

The End.

Share This Story: