Hey Mom,

Just wanted to let you know I played Santa Paws this year in Pawsburgh, spreading cheer among the pups and finding out my bark’s more powerful than I thought. Even met an angel named Clarence! Christmas magic’s real – who knew? Love, Milt 🐾🎄😇

P.S. Don’t forget, no cats allowed at Christmas dinner!

Listen to the story here

Seriously, if you haven’t been to Pawsburgh, you’re missing out. It’s the ultimate doggy escapade. Take it from me, Milton, the pitbull who wouldn’t be caught dead munching on a carrot. Oh, and let’s not mention the dreaded C-word…cats, ugh.

But let’s not digress. You’re here for the story of my whimsical, wonderful yuletide journey – a literal walk in the park, but with a touch of Christmassy magic.

It all started one chilly Christmas Eve. There I was, curled up on my favorite rug, Sharky tucked snugly under one paw, and the penguin, forever nameless, under the other. My human had adorning our humble abode with sparkles and strings of light, which was nice and all, but I was feeling…how should I put it? Disenchanted.

While my human was dreaming about sugar plums or whatever humans dream of, I padded over to the window, resting my chin on the sill. The stars were twinkling like the top shelf of Fetch! Toys and Treats. That’s when he appeared – a Beagle with spectacles and a glowing collar. He introduced himself as Clarence, my guardian angel.

“Holy howl! An angel?” I said, half expecting him to offer me a bland biscuit.

“Yes, Milton. I’m here to show you what a wonderful bark you’ve shared with the world,” Clarence replied with a wag that seemed to radiate kindness.

My tail involuntarily started swishing. Who was I to refuse angelic guidance on Christmas Eve? We tiptoed out, not wanting to wake the human, and ventured into the snowy streets toward Samoyed Square.

Now, you might think that’s a leap too far, even in a dog’s dream, but remember – this is Pawsburgh. Anything’s possible. Clarence pattered next to me, doing that Beagle thing where they look like they’re about to unveil the meaning of life, which he actually kind of did.

Behold, Golden Grub, where I’d shared many a secret Frenchie fry with my pal Trooper. Clarence nodded toward the cozy den and flicked his angelic nose. The place glittered with memories, and I saw us there, chomping on treats, tails thumping in harmony.

“See, your joy… it’s infectious,” Clarence pointed out tactfully, adjusting his specs as if they granted him access to some cosmic doggy diary.

We meandered over to Harrier Harbor, which I always thought was a great spot for pondering life or watching ducks – whichever felt more profound. The echo of my past woofs filled the air, but not the scary kind, more like those that said, “Hey, I’m here for you, buddy,” or “Cheer up, pal – have a fry.”

Then, a surprise. Setter’s Steakhouse, a place I’d never set paw in, given my delicate culinary proclivities involving fries over Filet Mignon. However, the heartwarming scene within melted my stubborn pitbull heart. There I was, dressed as Santa Paws, giving out toys to less fortunate pups, their eyes wide with wonderment at The Woofy Bakery’s donated treats. I couldn’t help but smile.

“Making a difference, Milton, that’s what you’ve done,” Clarence mused, gently thumping his tail against the powdery snow.

As we made our way back, with Clarence gabbing about every good deed, it dawned on me that even without my soppier moments sung to the world, I’d touched lives – something the angel-dog made sure to underscore like The Woofy Bakery does with icing on their gourmet biscuits.

We nudged the door open, and there were my human and Trooper, still snoring in sweet, oblivious festive peace. I squeezed onto the rug, sandwiched between Sharky and the nameless penguin, heart full.

Let’s just say, my Christmas morning was a lot brighter, my barks a lot more spirited, because Clara—er, Clarence helped this Pittie see that every dog has his day, even when it’s coated in snow and served with a side of self-discovery.

Just remember, if Christmas Eve finds you feeling less retriever and more lost puppy, take a stroll down Pawsburgh’s memory lane. You might find more than a few chewed-up toys – you might find your very own wonderful bark.

The End.