Hey Mom-and-Dad, just a quick text to let you know that I, Riley Grace, had the most fabulous adventure ever! I hitched a ride on the Polar Pooch Express, mingled with the high-class hounds of Pawsburgh, and even rubbed noses with Santa Paws himself! It’s been a whirlwind of wagging tails, meaty candy canes, and snowy escapades. Can’t wait to spill all the de-tails and show you the selfies. Give Grandpa an extra hug and get those belly-rub hands ready! 🐾❄️✨ See you soon, your trendsetting fluffball, Riley Grace.

Listen to the story here

My name is Riley Grace, a trendsetting Yorkie with a flair for the dramatic and an undying love for Grandpa’s supreme belly rubs. But even a social butterfly—okay, fine, social Yorkie—like me needs a break from the earthly routine, which is how I found myself on the Polar Pooch Express to the North Pole this Christmas Eve.

It all started when I dozed off beside my tired mom-and-dad in my human home— a decision which, may I add, totally pays off. By the magical laws of Pawsburgh, I awoke on the luxurious, velvety seats of the Polar Pooch Express. The marbling starlight slipping through the windows is so winter chic, it’s everything!

The train chugged steadily, leaving a glittering trail of snowflakes in its wake, destined for Santa Paws’ domain. My fellow canines lounged in their seats, whispering excitedly about the festivities ahead. I had a traincar to myself, which is exactly the kind of VIP treatment I deserve, thank you very much. You might think a pampered pup like me wouldn’t know much about train rides, but let me tell you, I’ve watched enough holiday movies on the couch with my humans to know that this train ride is kind of a big deal.

As the landscape of twinkling Christmas lights and frosted cookie cottages began to unfurl, the conductor—a dashing Dalmatian donning a Santa hat—sauntered through the aisle. He passed out candy canes that tasted suspiciously meaty… gourmet, for sure.

“Next stop, Bichon Boulevard for a brief layover. Feel free to stretch your paws!” he announced heartily.

A layover? I was ready for action. And by action, I mean shopping—it’s cardio, after all. Donning my snowflake bandana (so on-season), I sashayed down Bichon Boulevard, eyes twinkling brighter than the fairy lights draping every corner. Popping into The Furry Friends Art Gallery, I admired the puppy portraits and canine cubism. Must mentally remind the humans to redecorate.

Now, I’m a Yorkie with taste—it’s fruit loops in a silver bowl or bust—but when I passed Bark-n-Bite Bistro, the festive spirit whispered, “Try something new, Riley. Step out of your comfort zone.” So, I did. A plate of Canine Kabobs later, I was a changed pup. Still, nothing tops the anticipation of collie-gating with new furry friends at Santa Paws’ winter wonderland.

Hopping back on the train, we zoomed through a maze of stars, the Polar Pooch Express nearing its final magical destination. Snowflakes kissed my window, each one a tiny cold high-five, affirming my adventurous spirit.

Upon arrival, it was as if the entire essence of Pawsburgh had been dipped in Christmas magic and rolled in sparkles. Topaz Terrier Town was an effervescent glow-up, bearing lights that outshone even Opal Pomeranian Park.

Santa Paws, majestic as promised, waited for us decked out in red and white, sporting the fluffiest of beards. If I could whistle appreciatively without causing a scene, I would. “Riley Grace,” he boomed, “welcome!”

Before the night ended, I found myself playing chase with a pack of reindeer, doling out business cards to fellow polar loungers (a dog’s got to network), and even daring to take a selfie with Santa Paws, which, let me tell you, will fetch so many likes back home.

As the party settled, a warmth not from the fireplaces engulfed me—a mix of holiday joy and the sweet anticipation of telling grandpa and my humans about the arctic blast I had.

With the first light of dawn, the magic of Pawsburgh carried me back, right onto my fluffy bed, dreams tingling with the memories of a most enchanting train journey. Oh, and to whoever’s running things in the realm of doggy dreams—you’re welcome for the entertainment, just consider the vacuum ban lifted for next year because really, that’s the only gift I need.

The End.

Share This Story: