Hey Human,

So, while you’ve been blissfully unaware thinking broccoli in my dinner was the height of betrayal, I’ve been moonlighting as Pawsburg’s defender against the Z-Dog apocalypse. Yep, turns out I’m not just an English Bulldog with a fondness for belly rubs and beef jerky; I’m the chief strategist leading the pack against growling zombie sausages. Hope you never find out—or that beef jerky stash might be in jeopardy. 🐾

– Hank

The moon hung low over Pawsburg, casting an otherworldly glow on Bloodhound Bluffs. I padded cautiously, my stocky build making more noise on the pebbled path than I intended. Evening had settled in Pawsburg, and that meant only one thing: the Z-Dogs would soon be up and about. With a mix of apprehension and excitement, I cast a glance over my wrinkly shoulders.

“Stay sharp, Hank,” I muttered, mostly to myself. My expressive eyes caught every flicker and shadow, and my nose twitched at the scent of impending danger. My tail gave a brief wag, a warning not unnoticed.

You see, lately, Pawsburg was no ordinary canine utopia. Up in Dachshund Dale, the Z-Dog epidemic had begun. Poor wiener dogs, now more like growling sausages, had turned feral, their lifeless eyes devoid of any spark of recognition. We were all on high alert.

My human? Clueless. As clueless as when they tried to mix broccoli into my dinner. I shook my broad head at the memory. No, this was our fight. We, the awakened dogs of Pawsburg, would fend off the zombie hounds, and I, Hank, had a part to play.

My destination? Snout Snacks. The rumors suggested it had become a last sanctuary for non-infected dogs. A place where one could find both a meal and a plan. With every determined step, I wished for some beef jerky—a burst of strength that only that savory treat could provide.

“Halt there, Hank!” A familiar bark froze me in my tracks. Out from the shadows stepped Max, a majestic German Shepherd with a scar that made him appear even more heroic.

“Max,” I replied, my voice steady, “Any news from Ruby Rottweiler Ridge?”

Max’s eyes, eyes that had seen more pain and chaos than any dog should, softened. “Ridge stands firm. The Rottweilers are holding the line,” he said. “But we need reinforcements.”

I nodded. A heartbeat’s pause, and then, the distant, eerie howls of Z-Dogs drifted from Dachshund Dale. “They’re coming,” I whispered, my wrinkled face setting into a determined scowl.

Max and I nodded at each other—a silent agreement. We bolted forward, our paws drumming a desperate rhythm against the ground. As we reached Snout Snacks, the reassuring scent of fresh fare washed over me, but there was no time to relax.

Inside, the atmosphere was thick with the tension of dogs from all corners of Pawsburg. A couple of familiar faces—Rex from The Howling Husky Hardware Store and Bella, the Beagle beauty from The Pampered Pooch Salon—exchanged nods with me.

“Listen up!” I barked over the chatter. “We need a plan, and fast. The Z-Dogs are on their way.”

Heads turned; eager eyes locked onto me, waiting. As I outlined a defense strategy, targeting Bloodhound Bluffs as the first line of defense, I couldn’t help my thoughts wandering briefly to my human. My loyal human who had no idea about my double life.

“Max, you and Bella take the high ground at Ruby Ridge,” I commanded, my voice channeling every ounce of the natural leadership I felt.

Barks of agreement echoed my plan. Yet, in the corner of my eye, I spotted terrified pups huddled together. I made my way to them.

“Dad?” A tiny voice stopped me. It was Timmy, a courageous but young pup.

Taking a deep breath, I lowered my head, allowing him to rest against my stocky frame. “We’ll be okay,” I said softly, though the doubts gnawed at me like a persistent tick.

Time was running out. As the doors of Snout Snacks swung open and we moved to fortify our positions, my mind was set. I was Hank. An English Bulldog. Loyal, spirited, and ready to defend Pawsburg to the very last breath.

The wind picked up as the howls grew nearer. All I could do now was brace myself and hope that dawn would bring a new day. There was always another fetch game to play, another belly to rub, and another beef jerky to savor. For that future, we’d fight with every ounce of strength in our paws.

The End.