Hey Mom, it’s Jose. Quick update: You might think I’m your sweet, two-toothed lovebug lounging in the sun all day. Little do you know, I’m teleporting to Pawsburg for epic adventures with Bella, Max, and some heavenly cheese croissants! Oh, the life of a dog you’d never guess. Still hate celery though.🐾

Love,
Gremmi

**Love, Bacon & Paws (Inspired by ‘Love, Death & Robots’)**

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I’m Jose, in case you forgot, the most charmingly bald Black Chihuahua with precisely two teeth to my name. I live with my mom in a world that’s non-magical for all she knows. But what she doesn’t realize is, when she’s off gallivanting to work or snoring in dreamy bliss, I zip over to Pawsburg for the kind of adventures that make Old Yeller look like an amateur.

Today began like most days—with the celestial delight of lounging in a beam of sunlight on the porch. But ah, the scent of bacon sizzling in the kitchen! Bacon is my lost Atlantis. I’m ready to stab a human for a strip, but let’s not get dark here; I simply mean I’d let my mom believe I’d do her taxes if she’d give me some.

After my sunbathing ritual, I nudge my beloved, beaten-to-a-pulp tennis ball around the house. You should see it; best game of one-sided soccer you’ve ever witnessed. And then Mom leaves. Cue the magical sparkle, and whisk! I’m transported to Pawsburg.

First stop: Spaniel Springs. Magnificent place if you’ve never been. There’s a waterfall that glistens like, well, the fountains of bacon grease I often dream about. I saw Bella there, the Golden Retriever. Ever the beauty queen, seriously, her coat has its own Yelp reviews.

“Jose!” she barks in her rich, melodic voice. “Heard there’s a new bakery that’s got cheese croissants.”

Cheese? She had my one good ear at “cheese.” Max, the Beagle with a nose sharper than Sherlock Holmes’s deductive reasoning skills, joined us. We ambled down the cobblestoned streets toward Doggie Diner. Talking shop about chew toys, Bella kept the convo classy, Max, not so much.

“Did you catch the new smells at Shar-Pei Shores? Eau de Rotisserie Chicken with Essence of Trash Can,” Max sniped, doing an impression of a zealous food critic. Only in Pawsburg could chicken and garbage combine into something palatable.

At the diner, it’s all hustle and bustle. Dogs in aprons parading plates of mouth-wattering treats. A mutt with those dreamy croissants waltzes past—in slow motion, of course. You know, the way food dreams unfold.

“Three cheese croissants,” Bella orders, the server nods. Moments later, we’re indulging, and it’s like a mini-heaven in each bite. I even forgot about my tooth deficiencies for a minute.

From croissants, the crew decides to try our luck at Basenji Bay. Sun’s warm there, a bit like my porch, and I find a spot to flop into a post-food coma. Bella dives into the water with a grace that’s far beyond any Splash Mountain performance, while Max sniffs out buried treasures—mainly old bones.

“Hey, Jose, wanna make a bet? I sniff out five bones before the sun sets, and you owe me your tennis ball,” Max waggishly suggests. I’ve just nibbled on cheese; I’m not about to wager my beloved toy on his mighty sniffer.

“Not a chance, Max! How ’bout you find a yoga class for that endless energy?” I quip.

As the sun dips, painting the sky all kinds of marmalade and lavender, we head to The Wagging Tail Bookstore for storytime. It’s this pièce de résistance thing where we soak up tales of heroic pups, interrupted only by the occasional snore (thanks, Bella). Adventure fills our hearts, but the clock reminds us of our human homes awaiting our return.

A soft poof later, I’m back on Earth’s porch, still basking in that particular magic that is the daily celestial beam. Mom’s return is imminent. When she asks about my day, I’ll give her that wag of the tail, nudging the weather-beaten tennis ball in her direction. She’ll never know I’ve been gallivanting around a world of enchantment, where cheese croissants and bacon-infused dreams are the tail (pun intended) of the day.

And celery? Still hate it. Some things never change.

The End.