Hey Ellie, just another typical day in Pawsburg. Led a crew including a Snowdog (definitely a first) on a bakery run – Pawsburg’s latest magical furry tale. Returning with cheese and stories to share. Paws are frozen, heart’s warmed. 🧀❄️🐾 – Bentley

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You know, there is something quite magical about Pawsburg—more magical than an average human might dream of in their wildest reveries, and yours truly, Bentley the Dachshund, is an esteemed inhabitant of this wondrous place. It’s not every day that one can recount the tale of the Snowdog that came to life, but then again, Pawsburg isn’t every town, and I’m not just any dog.

It had been a particularly frosty morn, the kind where the crisp air nips at your snout, and the world looks as though it’s been dusted with powdered sugar. Ellie had departed for one of those human endeavors they refer to as ‘work,’ and I, after ensuring she was out of sight, scurried through the hidden doggy door that led to the Pyrenean Peak’s base in Pawsburg. There, my friends awaited: Marbles, Sadie, and Grizzle, with tails aflutter and snouts sparkling with frost.

As we frolicked amongst the pines, something caught my low-hovering vision—a figure, stout and snowy, with the resemblance of a dog like no other. It was our very own creation from the day before, the Snowdog, except it blinked its coal-black eyes and wagged an icicle tail.

“Oh, dash it all! It’s alive!” Marbles barked, sending a puff of warm breath into the chilled air.

“Indeed, it is!” Sadie concurred, her paw already poised for introductions.

Grizzle simply snorted—his approval, we all knew.

At once, the Snowdog bowed, in a manner, I must say, that was rather gentlemanly for a creature made of snow, and then it gestured with a snowy paw that we should follow. It led us on a most thrilling escapade, over the frosted tips of Malamute Mountain, down to the icy edge of Shar-Pei Shores, where the water lapped gently, adorned with ribbons of steam as it met the chilly air.

The Pawsburg sea-faring dogs glanced up from their morning routines, aghast at the sight of the whimsical procession, no doubt wondering if the fish had finally invaded the land, rather than the other way around.

“Where do you suppose it’s taking us?” I asked, my breath clouding my view momentarily.

“Only one way to find out, right?” Sadie chimed, her beagle nose twitching with curiosity.

The Snowdog, as silent as the snowfall around us, led us to the heart of Pawsburg, straight to Barker’s Bakery, where the air was rich with the aroma of fresh-baked biscuits and meat pies—a welcome contrast to the biting cold outside.

As if by magic, which I suppose it was in fact, a voice as gentle as a snowflake’s descent whispered, “Friends bring warmth to the coldest of days,” and with that, the Snowdog began to distribute treats among us—a biscuit for Marbles, a pie for Grizzle, and for Sadie, a savory bone to gnaw.

The patrons of Barker’s Bakery watched on, a mesmerizing scene playing out before their eyes. A Snowdog, bringing joy, and treats, to life.

“And what for our fearless leader?” Grizzle grunted. The Snowdog winked one ebony button eye and placed before me a small plate. Cheese cubes. One for every friend gathered here, and a few extra besides—presumably for good luck.

The Snowdog had melted hearts, if not itself, teaching us the simple joy of companionship sharpened against the bite of a winter breeze. It remained with us just long enough to paint our souls with mirth, before dissipating with a final sparkle under the noonday sun.

As I trotted home, the smell of cheddar lingering on my breath, I thought of Ellie, and how I’d relay this adventure. Would she believe such a tale? The extraordinary tends to sound ordinary until one experiences it. And in Pawsburg, the ordinary was never quite what it seemed.

The End.

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