Hey Mom, Baylen here! In a nut-shell, I turned dog-tective today and saved Pawsburgh from a ghostly stone chill. Think Sherlock with a tail. All good now, chasing frisbees in the sun again! 😎🕵️‍♂️🐾 Love, Bay Bay

Okay, so here’s the deal—I’m Baylen. Yeah, that Baylen, the Mini Aussie-Shepard-Border Collie-Blue Heeler mix. Some say I’m the unofficial mayor of Pawsburgh, but I’m just a regular guy, you know, with four legs and a chew bone I can’t live without.

So, this one day, I’m waking up from my eighth nap—it was a Wednesday, which in dog terms is like a Monday for you humans—and I sense something’s off. Like, ‘Someone replaced my regular kibble with diet stuff’ off. I stretch, yawn, and trot over to Jade Jack Russell Junction, and whoa, a chill that doesn’t belong in Pawsburgh hits me.

Buddy, my brother from another mother, yips beside me. “Dude, do you feel that?” he asks, his Chihuahua charm shivering for a change.

I nod, my multi-colored coat on end. Pawsburgh is always sunny and seventy-five, but today, it’s like we’ve stumbled upon an alley in Antarctica. This is some serious Stranger Pets vibes, and I’m not into it. Not one bit.

We head over to Pawprint Pizzeria for our regular slice, but as we arrive, the aroma of cheesy goodness is missing. Instead, there’s this eerie silence, a stillness that leaves even the flies wondering where to buzz. “How can a place known for tail-waggingly good pepperoni emit zero joy?” I wonder aloud. The plot, as they say, has thickened.

“This is a case for Doggie Holmes,” Buddy chirps, playing detective. He isn’t wrong—we’ve got a Sherlock-Bones-grade mystery on our paws here.

We leave the pizzeria, our bellies empty but our spirits full of purpose. As we make our way through Chestnut Cocker Courtyard, I notice the flowers wilting, the lampposts flickering. Something magical is turning gnarly, and it’s up to yours truly and my side-kick Buddy to get to the root of it.

Taking charge, I lead us to Opal Pomeranian Park. Usually, it’s a pupper’s paradise, but today, the grass is a dull gray and the usual frisbee games are nowhere to be seen.

“Okay, this is officially creepy central,” I confess, wishing my human mom was here to scratch behind my ears and tell me it’s all a bad dream.

Then, from the corner of my eye, I spot it. The object of all our woes—a strange stone, pulsating with a ghostly light, right in the middle of the park.

“Let’s poke it with a stick,” Buddy suggests, the epitome of canine curiosity.

“Or, you know, not,” I counter, because while Buddy may not watch human horror flicks, I’ve seen enough to know that’s how you end up in a sequel.

We approach cautiously, our hackles raised, when suddenly—the stone stops glowing, and everything pops back to vivid color, like the end of a rainbow just exploded in Opal Pomeranian Park.

“Would you look at that,” Buddy says, and we’re both back to soaking in Pawsburgh’s sunny ambiance.

Just another day, another strange occurrence, and two dogs who’ve got a story that’ll have our human’s eyes going wide with wonder.

So, as the unofficial mayor of Pawsburgh, let me tell you: life’s always an adventure here. But remember—if you stumble upon a pulsating stone or a chilly spot where it shouldn’t be, maybe just let sleeping dogs lie and walk away.

Or, you know, poke it with a stick. I’m not your mother.

The End.

Share This Story: