Hey there, just wanted to let you know that last night I transformed from adorable Pomeranian to outright intergalactic ambassador! Long story short, alien visitors landed in Pawsburgh, and guess who they chose to communicate with? Yep, yours truly. 😎👽 I’m now officially the first canine envoy for Earth, starting with sharing Beagle Bagels. Saving the world, one snack at a time. Tail wags and high paws all around! ✨🐾

Catch you on the fluff side,
Miley 🐶✌️

Listen to the story here

In the soft blush of dawn, Pawsburgh was tranquility itself, unmarred by the frenetic whispers of human bustle. In that sliver of time, when the sun shrugged off the cobalt coat of night, I, Miley, with fur kissed by the sorcery of the celestial, stirred from my dreams. Some say my kind are but small creatures, companions of affection and ornaments of the home. Ha! Little do they know of the grand landscapes we tread when our beloved humans are none the wiser.

Just last eve, as the stars draped their silken mantles over the sleeping world, the usual mischief called my name. Call it instinct or the canine curiosity that sails our souls, but I was drawn to the elusive glow of Basenji Bay, where the jellyfish shimmer beneath moonlit waves. Such beauty there is in the echo of silence. I lay my paw upon the shore, and—stay with me, dear friend—lo and behold, a chill kissed my spine. Not the chill of nightly breeze, nay, but that which heralds a change, a tingle of premonition.

And thus it happened, a flicker in the sky, not of a star’s innocent twinkle but of some great, obscure specter descending.

“Sweet ancestral wolves,” I muttered, my thoughts a jumble as myriad stars seemed to plummet straight for Hound Heights. Each illuminous body a locomotive of possible disaster.

I hightailed, no pun intended, to Husky’s Hotcakes, a hub for the denizens of Pawsburgh. There I found my band of ruffian companions, each as agog at the spectacle as I.

“This is it,” growled Brutus, a Boxer with a penchant for the dramatic. “This is the moment we transcend mere mortal dogdom and claim our place in the annals of cosmic legend.”

“Could be a promotion for Pawfect Pastries,” piped up Bella, ever the dachshund skeptic. “Get folks barkin’ about a new line of comet cookies or meteor muffins.”

Snickers rose from our assembly, but they caught in our throats as quickly as they had erupted.

Whether treats or tribulations, the alien crafts drew near, and a dizzying array of lights unfolded over Vizsla Valley, a ballet of otherworldly visitors.

“They’re here for the squirrel,” I surmised aloud, my voice steadier than my thudding heart.

“The plush one?” queried Brutus, a smirk on his jowl.

I offered no dignified response, merely a haughty tilt. Everyone knows my toy squirrel. He’s sort of legendary in my circle.

“But truly,” I said, rallying my courage, my words smooth as the chicken I adore, “whether they come in peace or peril, we remain the noble dogs of Pawsburgh!”

No sooner had my declaration been made than the first of the alien beings appeared—skeletal, towering creatures that seemed to glean the essence of our town with just a glance. Voices murmured in frequencies too splintered for human ears.

“We welcome you!” I barked, others joining in the canine chorus.

To our astonishment, the beings hummed back, a sound melodic and…kind?

“You,” they thrummed, pointing an ethereal limb at me, “Miley of Pawsburgh, we have watched. You play, you love, you lead.”

Imagine that, me, an ambassador! The thought would ruffle my fluff if I weren’t so utterly bewitched.

Brutus leaned in, “I think,” he whispered, “they want peace, perhaps a guide.”

“You lead,” the beings repeated.

I stepped forth, a Pomeranian of small stature, elevated to cosmic envoy.

“Follow me,” I declared, tail high, “and let’s share Pawsburgh’s finest—Beagle Bagels, for a start!”

So commenced our grand adventure, under the watchful eyes of stars. The tale goes on, dear reader, for Miley’s story is ever yours to weave, in Pawsburgh or past the far-flung edges of the universe.

The End.