Hey bestie! 🐾 Rose here, just conquered Pawsburgh with kindness today. Uplifted Benny’s ears, brightened Sherry’s day, and boosted Sid’s ego. It’s all about tail-wag-worthy gestures in the afterlife. Anywho, chasing self-improvement like it’s a squirrel. Chat later and dream of steak! 🥩💤 – Bulldog Boss 😎

Ugh, mornings in the afterlife. So cliché, right? Like, what even is time when you’ve crossed the rainbow bridge into Pawsburgh? But here I am, Rose, the Bulldog queen of calm—unless there’s a steak, obvi. I’m basically the Eleanor Shellstrop of Hound Heights. My chill has chill, except for my growing FOMO over being… better? Yeah, that’s the treat I’m salivating over these days.

So, I wake up on my fluffy cloud bed, which, FYI, does not require any of that exhausting human turning-over the sheets business. Squinting through my eyelashes, I check out the sunshine sifting through the dreamcatcher hanging by my window. Pure bliss. And somewhere in my Bulldoggy brain, I think, “Today’s the day, Rosie-girl. Time to up your game.”

Pawsburgh is popping, every tail wagging an epic tale of escapades. I stroll down Affenpinscher Avenue, all sniffs and snorts, ready to dish out kindness like it’s going out of fashion. News flash: it’s not. I see Benny the Beagle—or ‘Bentley’ as he insists now that we’re on the other side of the hydrant, I mean, the afterlife—who’s always antsy about his ears. “Benny, your floppy auditory apparatus are the envy of every canine here,” I proclaim, adding a smidge of Mindy-Kaling-esque sass.

Benny looks at me, head tilted, the surprise in his eyes practically spelling out, “Has Rose lost her doggy marbles?” But I see a smile peek through, and his tail gives a half-wag of appreciation. Score one for the universe, and for me!

I trot my way to The Groom Room for what’s known as a ‘good fur day,’ not because I need it, but because spreading cheer is my new chase-the-tail game. Sherry the Shih Tzu runs the joint, and between you and me, she could use a wooferboost. “Sherry, babe,” I say as I stroll in, “if there was a dog show for heart, you’d be Best in Show every darn day.”

Sherry’s usually frowny face breaks into a dog biscuit of a grin, and I leave another deposit in the good karma bank. Two paws up!

Feeling the good vibes, I decide to hit Pooch’s Pub because I’m starving, but also to work on my goal. On my way, I dodge Milo the Mailman-Chaser like he’s a cozy puddle I’m tryna avoid. Not because I’m still salty about that one pair of chewed-up sneakers (which totally didn’t deserve my teeth’s wrath), but because positivity is my new peanut butter, and I’m all about spreading it thick.

Sid the Terrier mans the bar, and he’s got this bone to pick about being too short to see over the counter. Dude, you manage a whole restaurant on your hind paws. With my most encouraging Mindy-esque pep, I bark, “Sid, Napoleon ain’t got nothing on your stature.” Now Sid’s laughing, tail thumping the floor like a bass drop.

I snag my usual table by the window of Pooch’s Pub and chomp through half the menu before taking a beat—breathing in Pawsburgh’s magic. I mean, who doesn’t love an all-you-can-eat buffet where the calories aren’t a thing?

My day of good deeds is a wrap when I plop down under the shade of Hound Heights Park, friends sniffing around me. I ponder: Is any of this making me better? Hell hath no confusion like a Bulldog’s musings, huh? But it does feel kinda pawesome.

Rose the Bulldog, signing off from a day of aspiring to be the goodest good girl in the Pawsburgh afterlife. Whether I’m inching closer to that goal, who knows? But one thing’s for sure; I’m napping with a smile tonight.

The End.

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