Hey Mom,

Just had the MOST amazing day! Turned into a Yuletide hero for a little human girl who needed cheer. Waggled, wandered, and worked my Pitskie magic—think festive doggy guardian angel! 🐾🎄✨ Home now, had chicken and rice & feeling like top dog. Hope you’re proud of your Afina, Pawsburgh’s own sparkle-eyed spirit lifter!

Tail wags and nose boops,
Fina 🐶💖

Listen to the story here

I remember it was nearly Yuletide in Pawsburgh. The kind of crisp, sparkling morning when frost kisses the pavements and even the wisest of old dogs like Max finds a puppy’s enthusiasm for the snow. You know me—I’m Afina, the brindle and white Pitskie with the gleam in her eyes that suggests she’s seen it all.

It was an ordinary morning that transformed into something rather extraordinary. Yes, Yuletide miracles have that sort of thing about them, don’t they? They sneak up on you while you’re busy making other plans.

Bells twinkled from every eave of Garnet Greyhound Grove, strung with a care that whispers of old-world charm, a distraction almost from the milky winter tableau underfoot. Dogs of all sizes frolicked, some sporting festive attire that can only be described as doggone delightful.

The Doggone Deli was busier than a flea circus, with a queue that snaked all the way to Cocker Courtyard. It gave the illusion that perhaps every hound in Pawsburgh had a hankering for the season’s flavorsome fare. And indeed, they might just have. But none of that mattered to me, for I had a mission.

I was not there simply to enjoy the merriment. No, I carried the secret knowledge, the same glimmer in my eyes you so often notice, that today I would touch a life.

You see, there was a tale whispered across the dog parks, of a child—a human child—in dire need of Yuletide cheer. I had learned it the previous night by the wise old Max, and I had determined then and there that I would be the vessel of that cheer.

Max was recounting the story when Bella bounded over, nearly knocking down Oliver in her yuletide exuberance. But her bounces, normally an infectious joy, now served to steel my resolve.

As evening fell and Pawsburgh twinkled to life with a thousand lights, I found myself at Onyx Otterhound Oasis, the heartbeat of our dogly escapades. I turned my soulful eyes toward the home I sought, and there it was, just past the cherry orchards frozen in winter slumber.

Nosing my way through their gate, in a manner ill-befitting of an adventurous Pitskie, no doubt, I spied the girl peering through frost-laced windows with eyes that seemed to reflect the holiday lights without a glimmer of joy.

Remembering Max’s words, the decision came easily. Humans didn’t understand our language as we dogs might hope, but the connection between a child and a dog, ah, that is a universal song.

I approached, tail wagging a message of serenity and companionship, and pawed gently at the windowpane.

The door opened.

A small face appeared, first curious, then blossoming into something shy of wonder. A soft, tinkling giggle filled the chilled air as her small hand made its way to stroke my head. The room behind her was draped in festivities unappreciated, a tableau awaiting revival.

And so, in my own way, I brought the spirit of Christmas into that home. They fed me my beloved chicken and rice (Ah! The reward for a mission completed), and, in return, joy seemed to sprout anew in every corner of their home.

It’s funny, really. We dogs, we have our own lives of running, chasing, and dreaming. But, when it matters, we are there, bridging worlds with wet noses and hearts wide open.

Yes, I am Afina. I have stories of courage, of dreams, and a tail that never stops wagging—even for Yuletide miracles on Woof Street.

The End.