Hey Dad,

Pawsburg went nuts tonight! Imagine this: an English Bulldog (me, in a tuxedo, holding Grogu) starring in the Annual Doggy Horror Picture Show with Baker from Oklahoma and Lilly the mischievous pug. We nailed our spooky musical under a supernatural moon, dealt with ghostly traps, and escaped Mayor Barktini’s ear-cleaning horror in the nick of time. Who knew your cozy-loving Albert could steal the show? It was epic.

Signing off,
Bobo

You wouldn’t believe it, but Pawsburg has gone bonkers tonight! It’s me, Albert, narrating this tale. Picture this: an English Bulldog with a heart of gold and a spirit to match, trotting down Schnauzer Street under the glow of the supernatural full moon. Yeah, you got it right, it’s me, in the middle of the spookiest night Pawsburg has ever witnessed.

You see, tonight was not just any regular night—it was the Annual Doggy Horror Picture Show down in Cavalier Cove. I found myself in a bit of a hullabaloo. My co-star, Baker the English Bulldog from Oklahoma, and I were cast as the leads in this spooky musical. Lilly the spunky pug from Alabama had convinced me to audition just last week. Of course, she played the mischievous, trouble-stirring ghost alongside me. So, there I was, standing beneath the cobwebbed archway of Woofy Bakery, clutching Grogu, my precious stuffed animal, which I never perform without.

Now, to set the scene, imagine Baker in a velvet cape, and me, well, let’s just say a wrinkly visage and a tailored tuxedo don’t quite scream “dashing.” But when under the Pawsburg moonlight, everyone’s boundaries stretch a little, don’t they?

As we approached the stage at Cavalier Cove, the fog rolled in, aptly courtesy of Misty, the Great Dane with a penchant for creating special effects. She just sneezes and voila—instant fog. Lilly darted around setting little ghostly traps for added spookiness, something you might expect from her tenacious pug nature.

The clock struck midnight, and the haunting notes of the musical began. I glanced at Baker, who winked reassuringly. Let’s just say, courage isn’t my strong suit. I’m more of a “snuggling in my cozy backyard while popping corned beef treats” kind of bulldog. But, the spark in Baker’s eyes, along with the excited barks of our Pawsburg friends—Pawprint Pizzeria’s chef Ruffo, and the owner of The Wagging Tail Bookstore, Bernie—gave me a much-needed push.

Our performance included everything from jazz paws to eerie howls. One scene involved a high-pressure, precisely choreographed chase with Red Jolly Balls darting between ghostly lights. While Grogu wasn’t exactly part of the act, he remained an emotional anchor in my tux pocket.

While Baker’s booming bark and impeccable timing stole the initial show, it was during the quieter, heartfelt moments when my timid nature melted into pure, genuine performance. Lilly, with her ghostly wiles, managed to coax out an expressive side of me that even surprised Baker. I mean, who knew a bulldog known for stubbornness could deliver such poignant tunes? My incredible affinity for melodramatic scenes surprised every wagging tail in the audience, including my own.

But the real scare wasn’t the musical at all. As the final number ended and the applause echoed through the Cove, disaster struck. Just as we took our bows, a ghastly howl pierced the air. It was none other than Mayor Barktini, a rather persnickety Pomeranian, warning us about an impending ear-cleaning stand up in Jade Jack Russell Junction. The horror!

I dashed off-stage, grabbing Grogu tighter. Baker stayed behind, valiantly holding off the curse-laden Q-Tip wielders. Lilly and I darted through the maze of Schnauzer Street, slipping into the warm, comforting scent of Mutt Munchies, hiding among the treats. It was our safe haven—no place for ear-cleaning horrors there.

Finally, the threat passed, and we emerged victorious. “Grogu, did you see my tremor-worthy vibrato?” I whispered. Grogu, silent but affirming, snuggled closer.

As we strutted back to Cavalier Cove, the moon now setting, a sense of victory filled me. This night, filled with both literal and metaphorical chills, wasn’t just memorable; it cemented my place as not just Albert the Bulldog, but Albert, the star of the Doggy Horror Picture Show.

And in true Pawsburg style, it wasn’t just about scaring. It was about friendship, bravery, and a touch of the unexpected magic that, let’s be honest, only a wrinkly bulldog like me could deliver.

The End.