Hey human, it’s your four-legged philosopher Rueben Stiles. Just saved Christmas with a sidekick beagle and a glum elf. Found the missing magic in the nick of time! Bet you didn’t know you had a yuletide hero snuggled up next to your slippers. Catch you in the morning for belly rubs & heroic tail wags. 🌟🐾 – Rueben

Listen to the story here

As the glow from the human’s laptop faded and the soft symphony of the night began, I, Rueben Stiles, found myself once again gazing at the twinkling stars from my bed. My human mumbled something about deadlines and shuffled off to the land of dreams, leaving me contemplating my nightly escapade.

I waited, as patience is a virtue they ascribe to us pugs, and with a soft snort, I eased out of the door left ajar – I’ve trained them well. The cool night air was invigorating, and I made a beeline for the magical portal at the end of the alley. In a bark, I was no longer Rueben, the philosopher-pug of Maple Avenue, but Rueben, the dapper dog of Whippet Way.

Pawsburgh awaited, bathed in its perennial moonlight. I trotted towards Samoyed Square, tail wagging to the rhythm of my tags. The Groom Room stood quiet, the lustrous sheen of well-pampered coats discernable even in the dim. The Woof and Whisker Wellness Center had a glowing ‘Open’ sign, as ailments, much like cats, don’t respect reasonable hours.

Lily met me by The Tail Wagger’s Tailor, her ears perked with news. “Rueben! Bruno has gone off to the human world with an elf!”

I gasped, almost swallowing a particularly sophisticated wrinkle. Bruno, missing? That was news enough to wrinkle the fabric of Pawsburgh society.

My curiosity won over my initial shock. “Lead the way, Lily!”

With the verve only a beagle can muster, she led me through mystical streets to Ruby Rottweiler Ridge, where we found the portal to the human world still shimmering – a gateway to adventure and possible mayhem.

We emerged in a big city at the cusp of Christmas, the promise of snow hugged the air, cold seeping into my paw pads. Humans bustled about, lost to the festiveness, unware of the magic in their midst.

“Lily, we find Bruno. We find the elf. We return to Pawsburgh in time for the Setter’s Steakhouse annual Christmas feast,” I laid out the plan with the decisiveness of a dog who knew where the best napping spots were.

As if summoned by my determination, a panicked yelp echoed in the crisp air. We darted towards it, turning a corner to find Bruno with an elf, who seemed to embody the very antithesis of holiday cheer.

“Rueben! This is Jingle,” Bruno introduced. “His Christmas spirit’s gone missing, along with his family’s joy.”

Jingle looked downhearted, the bells on his curled-toe shoes unjingled. “No one in my family believes in the magic of Christmas anymore,” he sighed.

“Bruno, we’ll rectify this,” I said, puffing out my chest, for surely, a Pawsburgh dog could revive a faltering Christmas spirit.

We orchestrated a plan that involved a merry chase through the human city, with me leading Jingle to rediscover the forgotten nooks of Christmas warmth. From ice-skating rinks to hidden backstreets embellished with garlands, I narrated stories of Pawsburgh, where belief and magic were the order of the day.

As the hours passed, Jingle’s step grew lighter, his laugh warmer, until he was humming carols we passed back through the portal. Bruno lumbered along, his old bones weary but his spirit alight with the joy of our mission.

Back in Pawsburgh, we recounted our tale at Mastiff’s Meals, regaling a crowd of canines with our Yuletide adventure.

And as the tale ended, Jingle, with a newfound twinkle, whispered to us, “Thank you, my friends, for reminding me that sometimes, all you need is a dog’s view to see the world afresh.”

With the taste of adventure and Mastiff’s meatloaf on my tongue, I wondered what new tales tomorrow might bring for Rueben Stiles – philosopher, navigator of the night, and harbinger of Christmas cheer.

The End.