Hey there!

Just had to save the day at the kennel – think Home Alone, but with more fur and tail wagging. Managed to outwit some two-legged bandits trying to swipe our art gallery treasures while everyone’s away. Used my secret weapon (spoiler: it’s cucumbers) to foil their heist! The Pet Palace is safe, thanks to yours truly. The pups will have quite the story waiting for them when they get back. Now, time for some Z’s and dreams of squirrel chases.

Catch ya later,
Tahnyr, the Pawsburgh Protector 🐾✨

Listen to the story here

Title: The Gallivant of Tahnyr: Kennel Conundrums

There I sat, Tahnyr by name, number one in sneaky squirrel chases and now, it seems, the sole keeper of the bounds at Pawsburgh Pet Palace—a name well-fitting only when companionship abounds. Let’s not kid ourselves, dear reader; this was no holiday for any creature stirring, let alone a restless tri-toned Dachshund with a penchant for heroics… and a distaste for cucumbers.

It was the eve of what humans call Christmas, a time where the mere whisper of cheer would spread like wildfire – except in the kennel, here it seemed more of a quiet smoulder. Our humans fancied themselves off to a vacation, leaving us lords and ladies to fend for the manor… or in this case, for me to fend, as it was my luck to have the whole place to myself. Well, myself and the whispering winds of wistful memories.

My friends, the usual tail-wagging troupe, had vanished like treats before bedtime. Barkley was off to his family’s ski lodge, and Whiskers, the wily old terrier, had scooted off with his humans to some warm beach. No doubt he was spinning tales, his whiskers twitching with every word. Left behind, I decided to make the best of it. “At least the chicken treats are all mine,” I mused gleefully.

It wasn’t long before solitude was interrupted by the sound of mischief, or rather, two pairs of feet—clearly un-cushioned by paws—treading too close, too conniving, too human. A duo of intruders, bandits aiming to dampen holiday spirits by pillaging our precious haven. Peeking from my luxury suite—a suite only in name, I should clarify—I eyed the trespassers. They sported mischievous grins that curled more sinister than my own tail during pensive times.

Aimless tchotchkes and treasured toys from The Doggy Depot wouldn’t suffice to fend off these festive felons. No, they were after the choice offerings of The Furry Friends Art Gallery, pieces meticulously painted in moments of doggy downtime. Barking was an option, sure, but let’s be realistic: that’s what they’d expect from a canine supposedly all alone. With the wit of Neil Simon coursing through my floppy ears and the mettle of many a chewed rubber burger fueling my resolve, I devised a strategy.

Waging war on boredom and burglars alike, I sprang into action like a squirrel startled mid-snack. First, a trip to the Howling Husky Hardware Store—a den of potential in these dire straits. I collected a medley of must-haves: ropes, bones, and the like. Trap-setting was an art form mastered by my squirrely nemeses; it was high time to outfox the foxes… or in this case, the robbers.

Arguments ensued among the bumbling bandits. “Do you even know where the paintings are?” griped one, as they tiptoed into Weimaraner Woods within the kennel’s expansive backyard. It was an eerie scene without the usual yapping and frolicking of my compatriots.

“The boss said they’re worth a fortune!” hissed the other, evident greed in his tone.

“Silent night, holy night,” I hummed, deploying a sticky concoction of Terrier Taco sauce and leftover (and much-reviled) cucumbers. The scent of Mexican cuisine with a hint of spa treatment wafted through the air. The timber flooring, now a culinary canvas, awaited their uninvited presence.

This canine caper crescendoed with a symphony of yelps, followed by a calamitous cascade of furry bodies—my own included. Adrenaline surged as I darted through a pile of Woof Waffles, adding a slapstick element to my hero’s journey. Clattering ensued, the squeaky burger announcing victory with each muffled “honk!”

In the inevitability of their defeat, the intruders skidded on the slippery surface of a well-laid dining disaster, gifts courtesy of my forethought—and distaste for a certain green entity. It was the catch of the day, these culprits caught in the edible net of their own insatiable greed, wrapped tighter in confusion than any Christmas present might dare.

The ruckus summoned human reinforcements. Their arrival was timely, cheerful exclamations intermingling with the gruff of disgruntled thieves. I, Tahnyr, collar dusted with the aftereffects of waffle and a triumphant gleam in my eye, greeted them. Just another minor adventure in the great tableau of Pawsburgh; a canine spectacle featuring yours truly as the silent guardian, the vigilant protector.

Songs will be sung (or barked), stories told (or woofed), and when my friends return to my side, our camaraderie will bound anew with this latest addition; a tale worth more than any artifact or treat. But for now, the Pet Palace is secure, the dog days bright—though let’s not kid ourselves, every day’s a dog day here.

In the quiet that settled, only the wink of the holiday lights and my hearty breathing filled the air. I settled into a well-deserved snooze, my dreams carrying echoes of my squirrel-chasing antics amidst the silent, snow-blessed night.

The End.

Share This Story: