Hey Jamie!

Seb here, your symphonic storyteller from Pawsburgh. I’ve turned Christmas chaos into canine caroling with a squeaky orchestra of ducks in hand! Missing your light, but spreading the cheer in true tail-wagging tradition until you return. Merry Bark-mas!

🐾 Sebastian 🦴

Listen to the story here

In the quaint, dogdom utopia that is Pawsburgh, on a crisp morning a whisker away from Christmas, I – Sebastian the Walker hound – awoke with a stretch that rumpled my brown and white coat. As I blinked my amber eyes open, the town outside thrummed with festive yaps and woofs. Thirteen days before Christmas, they say, and Pawsburgh’s spirit is awakened like the sun arising in my heart.

“Ah, to witness the world with the eyes of a dog,” I mused to myself, sounding profoundly more philosophical than intended.

With Jamie away, adorning someone else’s world with light and warmth, I followed the scent of adventure outside my dreams towards Sapphire Schnauzer Street. As I trotted past The Snooty Snout Boutique, glancing neither left nor right, the mannequin with the latest canine couture on display seemed to whisper conspiratorially, “Today’s the day, Seb; embrace the unpredictable.”

Onwards I strolled, sniffing the subtle notes of autumn still clinging to my coat when a peculiar squeak – not unlike that of my beloved rubber duck – echoed from around the corner of Chowhound’s Chophouse. There, in the midst of Cocker Courtyard, was a sight to wag tails for; a dozen dogs, each wearing a jaunty Santa hat, were pawing at a monstrous pile of gifts.

“Sebastian! Just the noble snout we’ve been waiting for!” boomed Bruce, a gregarious Golden Retriever who fancied himself a leader of sorts.

The pile of presents was a canine’s Christmas countdown; each day leading up to our treasured holiday, a gift would be unveiled and today was my day – the twelfth before Christmas. As the ceremonious barking subsided, I approached the gift marked with my name, angling my head with the curiosity of a pup faced with his first snowflake.

“Go on then, Sebastian, give us a speech!” prompted a Dalmatian from the back, clearly the impish sort. The idea sprung forth like unexpected applause, and so, clearing my throat with a melodious growl, I began.

“Friends, four-legged, and fabulous,” I announced, channeling my inner sage, “as we dig into this treasure trove of toys and treats, let us not forget the true marrow of the season – friendship, frolicking, and the inevitable food coma that follows feasting at Rottweiler’s Ribs.”

Laughter echoed, paws padded the ground with approval. With dramatic flair, I tore into the wrapping of my parcel and out tumbled a confluence of joyful yips – a squeaky chorus line of twelve rubber ducks, mirroring the twelve days of Christmas!

“Oh, the harmony we’ll create,” I exclaimed with glee, picking up one duck, now seemingly the conductor of this quacking orchestra. My joy was, however, cut short as the garlicy waft from Whippet Wraps momentarily distracted my companions; I had to act quickly to reclaim their attention.

“Friends!” I bellowed grandly, as Oliver the melodramatic cat would have done, “Let us parade through the streets, let our merriment reach every nook of Pawsburgh, let our caroling ducks announce the coming of a Christmas filled with mischief and delight!”

And with that, I led my cohort, our rubber duck ensemble squeaking out a festive tune, past the glistening spires of Spitz Spire, the shimmering twilight on Sapphire Schnauzer Street reflecting our rambunctious spirit. As the ducks sang, so did our hearts – twelve dogs of Christmas, bringing cheer and chaos to all.

Yet above all, I longed for the comfort of my human’s return, for the joyful toss of the frisbee, the savory chicken treats just out of reach. Because beyond the manicured lawns of The Doggie Daycare and the enticing aromas of Pawsburgh, home is where the heart leaps – and mine leaps towards Jamie, in a crescendo of canine carols.

The End.

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