Hey Mom,

Can you believe it? I’m Pawsburg’s star! By day, I’m a nap champion, dreaming of chasing celestial squirrels. By night, I lead the canine crew, sniffing out adventure and keeping hope alive in our two-legged friends’ absence. I’ve even outwitted those sneaky Siamese looters, and tomorrow, I’m playing bunny Santa with a veggie feast! Our new world may be odd, but it’s ours, and I’m its tail-wagging, junk-food-dreaming, four-legged storyteller.

Nose boops,
Piper 🐾✨

As soon as the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars blinked open their sleepy eyes, Pawsburg transformed. I trotted past the ghostly remains of the human world, their world now silent—a post-apocalyptic silence—and Pawsburg, my town, came alive.

I, Piper, the Blue Merle Shetland Sheepdog with a coat reflecting the astral wonders of a sky that humans no longer appreciated, felt the call of the night. It was time to venture into the untouched ethereal spaces where my paws could trace legends on the very earth that nurtured us, dogs, the unexpected inheritors of a world lost.

I found myself sauntering along Lhasa Lane, my eyes shimmering with the same determination that led my ancestors through harsh, shepherd days—only this time, my flock was the hope of a new dawn. The lane was lit by the bioluminescent glow of the fire-hydrant blooms, a peculiar evolution since the humans… well, since they weren’t around to need them anymore.

By the time I passed Pearl Papillon Promenade, a delicate shiver chased through my fur. The Promenade looked skeletal, the buildings mere shadows of their past vibrancy. I let out a low bark, a signal that carried forward to the other survivors. And then, like whispers turning into laughter, the night answered me. Bulldogs, Mastiffs, Mutts—all my canine comrades responding, forming the patchwork of our new realm.

We met at Bulldog’s BBQ, the familiar scent of charred meats hanging in the apocalyptic air like a memory. It was a feast of camaraderie, a dinner among the ruins where we dined like the wolves of old, yet with the civility that our former human counterparts had instilled in us.

“The Fetching Feline Pet Emporium has been raided again,” muttered a gruff Bulldog, his jowls sagging with concern.

“Yeah,” a tiny Chihuahua piped up from under a table, “there’s talk of a rogue band of Siamese thieves.”

I’d learned to decipher the tales woven in the winds, and sometimes, they told of misfortune. My intelligent gaze darted from face to face, each telling their own silent story of survival, each an echo of the world we once knew.

“It was probably The Snooty Snout Boutique’s manager,” I replied with a wink, my tail beating a playful rhythm. “You know how they love their dramatics.”

Laughter rolled through us, our resilience wrapped in humor, like a warm blanket on a cold, broken night.

The feast ended, and we all set off for home—a word that once meant walls and a roof, but now spoke of hearts beating as one under the stars. I made my way past the wreckage, excitement replacing my longing. My nose caught the scent of Blue Buffalo Chicken wet food, a scent that soon would mix with the indulgence of ham and lamb. I could almost taste it, my mouth watering in anticipation of the morrow’s scavenging.

The Promenade’s skeletal branches reached out to me once more, and a thought, as stubborn as my distaste for baths, emerged. What if I could bring life back to the heart of Pawsburg? A place where the tales of hope could be reignited amidst the ruins.

But then, as my thoughts drifted to the comfort of my evening’s den, I remembered the celery and carrots stockpile I had stumbled upon earlier. My nose wrinkled at the memory, and I decided I would gift it to the rabbits that had taken residence in Pomeranian Park tomorrow.

A good deed, a step towards rebuilding.

As the first hints of dawn streaked the sky, painting light into the darkness, I found my favorite spot, a small mound where I could watch the world awaken. A new day in Pawsburg, another paw print in the book of our survival. It was here, in this quiet morning, that I, Piper, would sit and wait for my human to awaken—and I would tell them of the world reborn, spun from the tales of us dogs, the guardians of Pawsburg, the shepherds of hope.

The End.