Hey Ma,

Just another day in Pawsburgh, where Juicy Butt and I stumbled upon a mirror world where us dogs live like humans. Almost swiped a lamb chop toy before we got sucked into watching our dapper doppelgangers live it up. Think I might’ve even sniffed out a new adventure or just dreamt the whole doggone thing. Either way, this town’s got more twists than a pretzel factory.

Tail wags,
Widdle

As the last sliver of sunset slipped beneath the horizon of Malamute Mountain, I, Cowboy, a bulldog-pit mix of peculiar pastime and fawn coat, took my first steps onto the cobbled streets of Pawsburgh. You wouldn’t believe the stories I’m about to tell, but in this town, the uncanny is expected, the impossible is merely improbable, and a dog’s life is every bit as complex as the human one we leave behind in the waking world.

My buddy Juicy Butt, having the Boston Terrier’s energy with pit bull’s fortitude, trotted beside me, all eyes bright and tail spinning like a propeller on an ol’ biplane. “Pawsburgh’s different tonight, Cowboy,” he barked, emulating the caution of a wise sage in a drooled-over dog-eared novel. “Can’t you feel it? Like the air’s been soaked in day-old bacon grease – somethin’ eerie’s cookin’.”

We passed Woof and Whisker Wellness Center, its windows reflecting a shimmer that danced to a tune I couldn’t hear. Tail Wagger’s Tailor had mannequins elegantly dressed in bow-ties and tutus; they seemed to pirouette with our passing glance, though Juicy swears they never moved an inch. Fetch! Toys and Treats was our next haunt for the night, but as we approached, the door chimed open, inviting, with not a soul in sight. “After you,” I said to Juicy, my voice playful yet cautious of the mischief that seemed to loom mischievously over Pawsburgh.

The shop was dim, but for a spotlight that fell upon a lamb chop stuffed animal—a spitting image of the collection I had at home. I couldn’t resist. I was about to grab that lamb chop when Juicy Butt tugged at my fawn coat. “Cowboy, look!” he barked, pointing to the wall lined with mirrors where our reflections should be. But instead, it mirrored Pawsburgh – or rather, another Pawsburgh where dogs were dressed as humans, living lives we could only fantasize about.

We pressed our noses against the cool glass. There I was – or another me – a Cowboy of a different breed, sipping a puppuccino at Beagle Bagels, indulging in a cheesy roll-up from Woof Waffles, not a disdainful vegetable in sight. No lay-down protests here: in that mirrored world, I swaggered like those cowboys in old black-and-white films, steering clear of Mastiff Meadows and trotting towards Vizsla Valley, stopping every dog in their tracks to socialize like a bonafide mayor of Pawsburgh.

Juicy Butt and I, we established quickly that these reflections weren’t mere fabrications of canine conceit. They acted independent of our own desires, hinting to unraveled mysteries, to lives untamed by the snooze button or the humdrum of human chores. And as if the peculiar world sensed our watchful fascination, a voice, smooth as peanut butter and twice as rich, echoed from the stuffed animals aisle, “Care to join the party?”

We whirled around, but there stood no dog, no man, just the lingering aroma of sass and syllables that danced through the air like a swindled scent.

The clock struck a bewitching hour when we decided to skedaddle, sticking to the comfort of known streets and pup-friendly faces. Much was left unexplained: the mirrors, the reflections, the invitational whisper. Yet, as we sauntered home under the twilight that cradled Pawsburgh, it mattered less to discern the beginning from the end. Troubles, after all, cease to dog you when adventures await in velvety meadows and shady boulevards.

And as I lay now in my favorite sun-drenched spot behind my human’s house, one paw over my eyes, I wonder whether Juicy Butt and I merely dreamed up the Doglight Zone or if, in some fantastic fold of furry fate, it was the truth that we chose to chew. But that’s the beauty of Pawsburgh – it leaves you blissfully between a bark and a woof.

The End.