Hey Mom,

Just a Pomeranian-sized update: I spearheaded the Great Bell Rescue in Pawsburgh! Tail wagging, nose leading, I sniffed out a holiday mystery, rallied the doggy troops, and salvaged our Jingle Bell Bark Fest. Imagine your girl, tail-chasing champion, turning detective savior of Christmas—what a tail!

Hugs and licks,
Treasure 🐾🔔✨

Listen to the story here

I gotta tell ya, if there’s one thing more invigorating than a squirrel chase, it’s Pawsburgh during the most yip-tastic season of all – Christmas! Trust me, nothing puts a jingle in your step quite like the annual Jingle Bell Bark Festival. But last year’s festival? Oh boy, now that was a saga worth burying then digging up again to retell!

So there I was in my usual spot at Pomeranian Park, debating the merits of chasing my tail clockwise versus counter, when the usually hush-hush hum of Pawsburgh turned into a frenzied bark-a-thon. The Christmas bell, our pride, and howl, was MISSING! Egad!

Josie, as cool as the underside of a pillow, ambled over. “We must stage a town-hound meeting at Bloodhound Bluffs, immediately!” she declared.

I agreed with an eager nod. I mean, what’s a Jingle Bell Bark Festival without the actual bell?

Off we trotted, Charlie bounding up beside me with a gait that made marionettes seem coordinated. “What’s the ruckus about?” he panted, mid-skip.

I explained, and his eyes bulged like they’d seen an open bag of treats. Dramatic, yeah. But then Charlie’s always been a pup of flair.

Corgi’s Crepes was packed with dogs of all makes and models. We were on our fourth round of pupuccinos when a plan was hatched. Separate, search, sniff out anything shinier than a new chew toy!

I was in charge of Garnet Greyhound Grove. To be honest, my fluffy sable fur doesn’t exactly blend in against greenery, but stealth is overrated when you’ve got a nose like mine.

As we all tore off in different directions, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this mystery required more than a typical sniff-out operation. I needed intel—and treats. A trip to Golden Grub was just the ticket!

The bell wasn’t there, of course, but while savoring the sweet licks of a vanilla “pup cup,” I overheard something at Fetch! Toys and Treats that made my ears perk up higher than usual.

“It’s just so heavy,” a deep bark complained. “Even with the sledge from The Howling Husky Hardware Store…”

I dashed out, the lightbulb above my head practically visible! A heavy bell? Sledge? I scampered off faster than you could say “fleas navidad.”

At the Grove, their tracks led me to the thicket where, lo and behold, the Pawsburgh Christmas bell lay silent and buried under a pile of winterberry branches.

“No one puts bell in the corner,” I whispered to myself, channeling my inner fluffy heroine.

With a burst of adrenaline—and maybe the sugar high from the pup cup—I charged back to town, howling the news.

Community is more than just a fancy word to toss around like my squeaky sunflower toy; it’s what makes Pawsburgh, Pawsburgh. Dogs of all breeds banded together; even the vacuums were put to good use clearing a path. (Incidentally, if you see me near a vacuum, I’ve been possessed. Save me.)

With the bell secured onto the sledge, we paraded back into town, wagging tails swishing in unison. Under those glowing fairy lights and the watchful eyes of jolly old Saint Schnauz, we hung the bell back in its rightful place.

What can I say? That evening, as our collective barks rang out in harmony with the bell’s chime, I never felt prouder to be a Pawsburghite—neither for my furry friends nor for the warm sense of belonging. And the spirit of the season? Well, it was alive and barking, stronger than ever.

Treasure the Pomeranian, over and out. Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s some serious tail-chasing strategy to refine.

The End.