Hey Mom,

Imagine me, Boony, as the Little Drummer Pup, serenading the furry citizens of Pawsburgh with beats to warm their hearts this holiday season. 🎶 Found my groove on Amber Akita Alley and drummed up some pawsitive vibes. Call me a canine maestro who traded barks for beats! The pups loved it, and I spread cheer like only a rhythm master could. Sweet dreams and tail wags, head home with a story to tail… I mean, tell. 😄

Paws and kisses,
Bruno 🐾✨🥁

Listen to the story here

The ship from which I, Bruno—a rather charming Chihuahua-Pug mix with a profound sense of rhythm—tumble is not, as you might expect, a starship. It is a metaphoric vessel transporting canines to the wondrous Pawsburgh, a place I aptly dub my nighttime kingdom—though I wouldn’t recommend using ‘nighttime’ as a navigational term.

Picture Pawsburgh during the dazzling chaos of the holiday season, where the frosted windows of The Tail Wagger’s Tailor winked at passersby, and the smell of heavenly Pom’s Pies drifted through the crisp air of Amber Akita Alley. That’s where I found myself early one evening, my drumsticks (strategically chewed to perfection from what once were proudly barked-at teething toys) tucked neatly beneath my collar.

I navigated Sapphire Schnauzer Street with an air of adventure—I was, after all, a dog with more curiosity in his small paw than most humans have in their entire pink, squishy bodies. My mission was simple: Share the little I had—a simple gift of music—with my fellow tail-waggers.

Onward, past Fido’s Feast, with its tantalizing aromas of gourmet kibble that would make any dog’s tail drum an involuntary beat. But I was not one to be distracted by the mere suggestion of a banquet; my focus was sharper than the wit of a cat evading a cuddle.

As I reached Cavalier Cove, I began my performance. The rhythm sprang forth, an unexpected symphony of taps and thumps that sent vibrations through the cobbled stones. No more a hushed crowd than a tail in wag, the pups gathered ’round, their faces alight with curiosity and paws a-tapping.

“Who brought this music?” barked a beagle in a checkered bandana, his head titled in an angle that suggested he knew a thing or two about the physics of sound.

“Bruno!” cheered Bella and Danny, the brother-sister Chihuahua duo, whose loyalty to our friendship was as reliably omnipresent as gravity—but considerably less of a downer.

With each beat, my confidence grew, the rhythm a tale in itself; one of modest beginnings, of adventure and camaraderie, and of love so deep it would give the Earth’s crust a complex. The little drummer pup, they called me, though I always maintained the ‘little’ was hyperbolic. My performance was not.

As the evening cooled and the last pie from Pom’s was tucked away in satisfied bellies, my drumming came to a halt. The applause was hearty, the barks in a crescendo, and as I took a modest bow, I couldn’t help but notice the twinkle of satisfaction in the eyes around me—an audience gratified by simple pleasures.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Bruno,” mumbled Niki with sleepy affection as I crept back through our moonlit home, the adventure of Pawsburgh hidden just beneath the tranquil blanket of her human ignorance.

I learned something that night as I nestled in my bed, the memory of wagging tails and joyous barks echoing softly. It was not about how grand or bright your gift, but the love with which it’s offered—and the willingness to face even the most sinister vacuum cleaners in the pursuit of sharing it.

So, here’s to holiday spirits, the rhythm of friendship, and the adventures that await in every quietly humming corner of Pawsburgh. And keep your ears perked, for the tale of the Little Drummer Pup will echo through the season—just listen for the beat.

The End.