Hey Mom,

Your pup adventurer, Keisha, just unearthed the fabled treasure of Pawsburgh! It was a wild ride through Weimaraner Woods, faced down a ghoul-dog, and found out the real treasure’s a magic mirror (I left that mystery for the next brave snout). Turns out I’m as much a master of tales as I am of getting into mischief. I’ve got enough stories to keep my tail wagging forever now. 🐾

Hugs and howls,
Meisha Moo

Well now, there I was, Keisha the Pug, with the shimmering fawn coat, tucked in the farthest bend of Weimaraner Woods where the thickets grow as wild as a river’s tale. I’d heard whispers of a secret in Pawsburgh, something about a hidden treasure buried beneath the Eternal Elm, rumored to bring a dog luck unrivaled.

The moon hung like a silver watchman in the cloth of night, and I, fated by the restless pull of adventure and perhaps a dollop of that famed stubborn streak, found myself inching toward a legend as real as the collar round my neck.

Tales had been spun ’bout the treasure in hushed tones at Woof Waffles, between chewy bites of syrup-drenched treats. Some said it was a chest filled with the finest bones, others, a trove of toys no dog could ever shred. But none who set out had returned with more than a shrug and a tail between their legs.

Now, I ain’t superstitious, but as I pawed my way through the misty tendrils of the woods, every snap of twig sung a sinister note. My curiosity, a flame that no gust of common sense could snuff out, burned fierce as the summer sun on Bichon Boulevard.

My steps were cautious, like a gambler’s each time he lays his fortune on the turn of a card. A soft growl escaped my lips unintentionally as what seemed like shadows danced just beyond the reach of my brave heart.

Soon enough, I came upon that Eternal Elm, its branches spread wide as if to say, “Welcome, if ye dare.” I took to digging; paws a blur, dirt flying hither and thither until I uncovered a chest as ancient as Pawsburgh legends.

I reckon, dear reader, you’re biting your nail wanting to know what was inside. But just as I was ’bout to lift that lid, a growl deep and menacing tore through the silence of Weimaraner Woods. I wasn’t alone.

Emerging from the cloak of night, a beastly hound, eyes glaring like lanterns, stepped forth. ‘Twas said the woods were guarded by a ghoul-dog, a spirit with a taste for the brave and foolish souls that dared to claim the treasure. My gulp could’ve been heard clear to Labrador Lunch.

“Now, see here,” I said, boosting my courage like one fluffs a pillow, “there’s no need for unpleasantness. I’m merely an admirer of history, you might say.”

The ghoul-dog snorted, a sound that’d curdle the gravy at Barking BBQ. “Yours is a bold heart, Keisha of the spun-gold coat. Spare yourself the terror and flee, lest you wish to remain a guard at my side for all eternity.”

Vexation at the thought of not romping in the delights of Pawsburgh again, not savoring the scents of life or engaging in a squeaky toy battle, rose in me like floodwaters. Yet, bravery and bones seemed poor trade for such a fate.

But I am Keisha, of obstinate love and playful jest. With a wink and a snook, I offered a deal. “Perhaps you prefer a story over eternity’s quiet? I can weave tales that make the Emerald Eskimo Estuary seem like a puddle.”

The ghoul-dog paused, and something like a canine chuckle rumbled through the dark. “A story,” he growled thoughtfully, “very well. Spin your tale, fawn-coated raconteur.”

As I spoke, my words a lullaby to the beast, I nudged the chest with my nose, just so, tipping it open. The treasure, dear friends, was neither bone nor toy, but a simple mirror, in which the ghoul-dog, hearing of his own legend, realized that he was naught but a story himself – one that could choose to end.

And with a huff that whispered of relief, he vanished, leaving me and the treasure of Pawsburgh. I never did peek in that mirror, for some magics are best left unchallenged. I scampered back, chest in tow, ready to spin yet another yarn to my companions at The Doggie Daycare.

They say Keisha’s luck changed that night, but between us friends – it’s not the treasure, but the tale that’s truly golden.

The End.