Hey Mom,

Merry Christmas! Today I became the Santa Paws of Pawsburgh, leading my furry friends to help a family in need with food and gifts. Brought the whole town together in the true spirit of Christmas, where it’s love, not just presents, that counts. Can’t wait to snuggle up and tell you all about it. Feels good to be your good boy.

Love,
Gunner 🐾

Listen to the story here

Well, let me spin you the yarn of one festive eve in the magical realm of Pawsburgh, where I, Gunner, the tan doodle, had the most remarkable of adventures.

On that Christmas morning, the air was crisp as peppermint, and every street from Sapphire Schnauzer to Pointer Pier was a-twinkle with the joy of the season. I had just bid farewell to my dear, loving Mom and was off gallivanting towards that enchanting town where us dogs sought respite from our human duties.

It all began at Samoyed Square, where a grand tree touched the heavens, each branch adorned with baubles bright and ribbons a’flutter. I pranced – yes, pranced – ’tis the gait most natural to my bouncy curls and wagging tail – betwixt the wondrous boutiques and eateries, taking it all in, my snout kissed by the scent of treats and roasting meats.

I was soon joined by a motley crew of my Pawsburgh pack. Whispers fluttered like snowflakes, of a certain family that had fallen on hard times. The Alsatian Andersens, proud they were, resistant to the helping paw, but this Christmas was one unlike any other, and aid was the gift they needed most.

Mark my words, it takes not but one good turn to kindle the spirit of Christmas. I rallied the troops, dashing to the Dapper Dog Salon, where the proprietor, a wise old Sheepdog with spectacles askew, entrusted me with a satchel of his finest trinkets and ribbons.

Our next stop was Pet Partners Pet Supplies – no drought of generosity there – for each collar and toy we gathered, the cashier’s tail gifted us a jovial “Merry Christmas” wag.

Minds set and hearts aflutter, we paraded to the Andersens’ abode. The Sapphire Schnauzer Street was aglow with fairy lights, serenading our every step. But as we approached, an air of somber hush befell our band of merry dogs.

Theirs was a home of dimmed cheer, the tree but sparingly clad, the light of the season but a flicker in need of tending.

My ball, spherical delight that it was, fell from my grasp as I beheld the sight. In a moment of whimsy, or perhaps divine canine inspiration, it rolled to the door and with a soft thud, announced our presence.

Carrying the parcels we had procured, I nudged the door ajar. The youngest Andersen pup, a scrappy lil’ terrier, espied us first. Her eyes soon mirrored the twinkling stars above, and though no words were exchanged, the language of giving spoke volumes.

We spilled our festive haul onto the threadbare rug, ribbons flew, baubles rolled, and toys squeaked with the joy of newfound purpose.

There, amidst the warm glow of our gathered candles, a banquet awaited us, laid out by our own paws; for we had brought the feast from Pup’s Parfait, Puppy Plate, and Bark Buffet – enough to warm every belly and heart.

A spirit moved through the room, a spirit of forgiveness, for the Andersen’s pride had ebbed, replaced by grateful tail wags—a spirit of generosity from a pack brought together by shared purpose. By night’s end, we were all rapt in the true spirit of Christmas—as much a gift as the giving itself.

And so, we learned that Christmas is more than baubles and feasts, it’s opening home and heart to kin and stranger alike. Bless us, every dog.

Now, my tale must end, as the eastern sky hints at dawn, and Pawsburgh begins to vanish like sugar plums in daylight. I’ll slip back to my loving Mom, with stories of Christmas miracles woven in the silent language of paws and tender licks.

That’s my Christmas Tail to you, dear friend, from Gunner; may your days be merry and bright, and all your Christmases be white as my bouncy cloud of curls.

The End.