Hey hooman,

It’s me, Maggie the Rhythm Rover! Just rocked Pawsburgh with my paw-tapping beats; led the Drummer Pup Celebration under the moonlight. Totally sync’d with every bark in town, until a banana peel tried to slip me up! 🍌🐾 But I kept the beat going, turning a slight stumble into a fur-raising finale. Bringing the tail-wagging tales to you soon – brace for laughs and a terrier’s touch of cheer!

Keep your paws warm,
Maggie aka Paws Maestro 🐶🥁✨

Listen to the story here

It was the kind of crisp, silent night in Pawsburgh that rendered even the moon a courteous audience member, glistening overhead. Pyrenean Peak, a shadow against the sky, promised a sheath of serenity over our quaint little town of tail-waggers—a seasonal enchantment with holly and fairy lights.

“Maggie!” The call broke through the evening hush. Oh, dear reader, that’s myself, swathed in russet fur like a well-groomed autumn. “We’re not complete without you,” the Spaniel panted, her breath a puff in the winter air as she bounded up to me.

“You’re late,” the Bulldog grumbled. We stood at the foot of Pyrenean Peak, where tonight’s festivities would unfold—the Drummer Pup Celebration. A tradition, you see, quite anticipated in Pawsburgh, compelling every dog from Hound Heights to Bloodhound Bluffs to gather and tap along with the canine who held the sticks of destiny—or in their case, well-chewed bones.

“I wouldn’t miss it for all the jerky in Beagle Bagels,” I assured the Spaniel, my tail a happy metronome, though I held no drum nor sticks. I, dear friends, exuded rhythm through my very paws.

“Why the glum face, old boy?” quizzed the Bulldog, peering at my empty paws. “You think the moonlit silence will drum on its own?”

“Ah,” I declared, lifting my head with a theatrical flair befitting a Shakespaw play at The Wagging Tail Bookstore, “I need no drum, for the earth is my timpani and my paws, the mallets.” I winked at the Poodle, who spun with anticipation.

We trooped to the center, where hounds of every spot, shade, and bark awaited. To my left, Hound’s Hotdogs buzzed with thoughts of a post-celebration feast, and opposite, Doggie Diner chimed its approval with the clink of hearty bowls.

I sidled into the heart of the circle, closed my eyes, and for a lingering moment, there was peace. Then, with a resounding tap, my paws found the frozen ground, a sonorous thud that echoed the mountainside. Tap tap, thump thump, the rhythm began—a jolly dance of paws against the hard-packed snow.

The Spaniel spun, her ears a’flying, the Bulldog’s sagely nods falling in perfect time. Tap tap, thump thump, dogs joined in, paws drumming their own corners of earth, creating a symphony of unity under the watchful sky.

I thought of my legendary human, their whispers in my heart, and how I’d convey this tale later to their unsuspecting ears. Or how I’d leap with gusto, a Brown Hunt Terrier in a most extraordinary drum circle, paws orchestrating the merriment.

“Play on, dear Maggie!” the Poodle cried with delight, leaping in balletic form to my earthly beat.

But then—oh, calamity!—a banana peel, a yellow treachery, disguised amidst the snow under my paw. My rhythm faltered, a screech of surprise yipping from my lips.

I sidestepped, regaining composure with the prowess of a terrier not to be undone by fruit. Paws once again in rhythm, the audience chuckled, charmed by the spontaneity of the tale I wove in the snow—the tale of Maggie, the noble Brown Hunt Terrier, who drummed up a storm with nothing but joy and a dash of mischief to carry the tune.

And from the silent twinkling above to the wagging tails around, the message was clear: love and unity, a simple gift of music, was indeed our most timeless treasure.

And I, dear friends, was just a humble terrier leading the charge, chasing away the cold with our infectious, innocent passions, beneath the boughs of Pyrenean Peak on a night not soon to be forgotten.

The End.