Hey Mom!

Just led the Pawsburgh pups in decking out the humans’ house for Christmas—clandestine canine capers at their finest! We turned their home into holiday HQ with secret missions, ninja moves, and yes—a few snagged turkey slices. Think of me as Mission Control with a wagging tail. House looks pawsome; the humans are thrilled!

A very merry Frenchie xoxo

Listen to the story here

Well, bark my chimes and call me festive, but if this tale doesn’t jingle your collar, I don’t know what will. It all started one ordinary day, or night rather, when the humans are out and the world transforms into the mystical Pawsburgh for the likes of us canines. I’m Frenchie, by the way, your lovably stout English bulldog guide for this tale, with a penchant for mischief and a coat that could outshine a misaligned Christmas tree, or so I like to think.

So there I was in Bulldog’s BBQ, tucking into… something deliciously non-citrusy, when my ear caught wind of the howl about town. The humans were gearing up for their annual “Deck the Halls with Bows and Collies” – a Christmas decoration contest that made Clark Griswold’s efforts look like child’s paw-work. It was clear what I had to do: Pawsburgh had to help, it was doggone destiny!

I pranced out the door like a contestant on a game show, heading straight for Pomeranian Park where my platoon of pawed partners awaited. It was like assembling your dream team, except everyone has four legs and barks.

“Listen up, furballs! We’ve got a mission!” I announced with the gusto of a general. The details were simple: help our humans, win this contest, bring us closer together. Even closer than during belly rub blizzards.

First things first, I rendezvoused with Slinky, a dachshund with connections to The Snooty Snout Boutique. If you’ve ever needed tinsel that’s both elegant and slobber-proof, you go to Slinky.

“Frenchie, my stout compadre, not citrus again?” Slinky teased as he caught me turning up my snout at an offending lemon garland.

“Keep your fruit to yourself, Slinky! We’ve got baubles and bunting to liberate,” I retorted.

The plucky Chihuahua from Chihuahua’s Chimichangas supplied us with festive doggie bags. We were not on a stealth mission, we were on a treats mission – with stealth. After all, energy is essential for late-night decorating escapades.

Our strategy was a dog park’s maze of intrigue; a covert operation that would make a ninja cat proud. Pinscher Plaza became our stage as we collected discarded wreaths and rerouted string lights, which by the way, is no easy task with paws.

Now, I must not let modesty bury the bone of truth; I looked majestic tangled in those fairy lights, a living ornament, my coat aglow with the magic of a hundred tiny suns.

Under the cover of Basenji Bay’s mellow moon, I barked out the orders as we transformed the humans’ house into the epitome of Yuletide cheer. A few tangled tails and chewed-up instruction manuals later, the dawn was upon us, and it was time to flee back to our respective homes, bellies full of success (and stolen turkey slices).

We watched, hidden behind velvet curtains and under cozy armchairs, as our humans woke to the Christmas miracle. The house – their house, our house – stood resplendent, glowing with neighborly envy and Christmas spirit that would warm even the coldest of snouts.

Their joy was unbounded, their gratitude, well, if it could have been bottled, we could have sated the thirst of every dog from here to Timbuktu. And as they all gathered together, laughter mingling with the scent of fresh pine and gingerbread, I knew we’d done more than win a contest.

We, the dogs of Pawsburgh, had reminded our humans what matters most – love, togetherness, and the wonder of a surprise Christmas miracle, orchestrated by their furry, four-legged masterminds.

And there you have it, the tail – err, tale of how an English bulldog named Frenchie helped deck the halls, spread the cheer, and found a new respect for fairy lights.

The End.