Hey fam,

Just a quick pupdate from Pawsburgh. Turns out, I’m not only a first-class waddler but also a part-time hero! I helped find our Christmas Shepherd, Klaus, and even got to share a bit of the shepherd spotlight myself. We’ve decided guiding is a team sport, so double the fur, double the fun this Christmas Eve. Snuggle up, ’cause I’m bringing homely warmth and some newfound doggy wisdom—quadruped style. And yes, Mabel’s already spreading the legend of ‘big boy’ Russell, the unlikely Christmas compass. 🎄🐾

Woofs and wags,
Russell

Listen to the story here

In the hushed twilight of Christmas Eve, while the humans were nestled in their beds with visions of sugarplums or whatever, I, Russell, made my leisurely waddle down the cobblestoned streets of Pawsburgh. The festive lights twinkled like stars born just to celebrate this single night, and the scents of the holidays wafted through the crisp air – roasted meats and warm cinnamon, but never citrus, thank heavens.

By some unspoken tradition, we had all congregated in Chestnut Cocker Courtyard, marveling at the sheer volume of decorations. It seemed every cocker spaniel in town had a personal vendetta against minimalism. Over at Bark-n-Bite Bistro, delicate wafers and bone-broth bisques were being prepared, and the warmth from Pawfect Pastries spilled out like a promise of never-ending comfort.

Life in Pawsburgh was never dull; it was as if someone designed our little town in a brainstorming session while high on kibble. Our ‘Christmas Shepherd,’ as they called him, hadn’t showed yet, though. That was the role a wise old German Shepherd by the name of Klaus assumed every Christmas, guiding lost pups back to their warm hearths. But on this night, Klaus was nowhere to be found.

“It’s unlike him,” mused Mabel the Beagle, her spectacles precariously perched on the bridge of her snout.

When you’re part of a community that prizes loyalty the way we dogs do, an absence is more than just a hole in the crowd; it’s a tear in the very fabric of the town. So, with my unwaveringly adventurous spirit (and the fact that every shop was closed by now), I took it upon myself to find our missing shepherd. “Stay put,” I told Mabel, ignoring her skeptical gaze as she considered my stout legs.

I had slushy resolutions, true, but my heart compensated for whatever speed I lacked as I bravely ventured toward the one place not decked in holly – Weimaraner Woods. The woods were eerily quiet, the snow absorbing both sound and probably ill-advised ventures by bulldogs named after people.

It was there, among the spectral birch, that I found Klaus, pacing in a clearing.

“Lost?” I ventured, almost hoping he was so I could heroically lead us back.

“No,” he replied, solemn. “I’ve been thinking.”

“About?” The cold was nudging me briskly from behind, hinting that a warm fireside and a chewed giraffe toy would be a wiser choice than philosophical debates in the snow.

“Guidance, Russell. Being a beacon for others. But even a shepherd needs a compass sometimes,” Klaus confessed, his gaze lost in the labyrinth of stars above.

There was wisdom in his silence; it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and not because of the frosty air. And while I could barely navigate the four corners of my beloved Pawsburgh, I knew one thing for certain: one never leaves a friend behind in the cold.

“Let’s guide each other back home then, hmm?” I proposed.

The trek back was less about direction; more about camaraderie. We eventually stumbled upon our festive enclave, to the joy and relief of our friends. It seemed that this Christmas Eve, Pawsburgh would not just celebrate the legend of a guiding shepherd, but also an English bulldog who found courage and purpose beneath the boughs of Weimaraner Woods.

And as Mabel updated Klaus’s tales with my small yet significant act, I nestled into my spot on the living room rug – my heart as warm as the fire crackling beside me.

This year, the Christmas Shepherd was not one but two – for sometimes, guidance comes in pairs: one to lead the way, and one to ensure no one is left behind. Even if one has a decidedly hearty waddle.

The End.