Hey Mom,

Guess what? I’ve been helping my human overcome his fears by taking him on daily adventures. We’ve discovered some great parks and made friends with all the neighborhood dogs! 🐾 Feeling pretty proud of myself.

Love, Mo Mo

### The Great Donut Dash of Pawsburg

Now, ain’t this a curious pickle of a day? ‘Twas a misty mornin’ in Pawsburg when I, Mercedes—better known to you folks as Mo Mo—found myself caught up in the hullabaloo of the Great Donut Dash. You see, Pawsburg ain’t your run-of-the-mill town; it’s a place where dogs like me scamper off to chase dreams, make mischief, and munch on treats while our human folks are blissfully unaware. Ain’t nothin’ like livin’ a double life, I tell ya.

Vizsla Valley was throngin’ with excited paws and waggin’ tails as dogs from all corners trotted over. The affair was organized by none other than Mayor Poodle, who’d spilled the beans at Poodle’s Pasta last Thursday night during happy hour. Ya had to be there to believe it—a dog town festival centered on competitive snackin’ and sprintin’!

Now, I may be an English Bulldog with a ginger and white coat fashionably topped with a heart-shaped patch right ‘tween my eyes, but I reckon my athletic disposition’s more suited for chasin’ after feel-good vibes than fetchin’ records. Yet, here I was, preparin’ to hightail it in a race against Pawsburg’s finest, including the lightning-fast pups from Jade Jack Russell Junction.

See, the Donut Dash ain’t just any race. Dogs from all over meet at Diamond Doberman Dunes, each eager to win the golden donut—a glistening trinket, round as a nougat, bestowing the winner a year’s worth of treats from Mutt Munchies. What more could a dog wish for?

With my friends Lucy, the loyal Lab from over yonder, and Scruffy, a stubborn Schnauzer known for his sharp wit, we gathered pre-race near Doggone Deli. Scruffy handed me a pre-race donut hole, whisperin’, “For good luck, Mo Mo. Ya might need it seein’ as yer short legs ain’t exactly built for speed.”

Cuttin’ him a sly glance, I plopped the donut hole in my mouth. “Reckon I’m countin’ on my charm to outmatch your spritely feet, Scruff.”

Just then, the mayor called for our attention. Ol’ Mayor Poodle rewarded us with a canine-pleasin’ speech about fair play and filled the competitors’ hearts with fervor stronger than a hot cup of beef broth. A barkin’ cheer erupted from the crowd, and soon enough, the air was rich with adrenaline.

As the signal bark echoed cross the Dunes, we took off, paws hittin’ the sandy expanse. Turns out, my ginger frame is a hefty burden to lift, but I pushed on, mesmerized by the thought of a Diamond Doberman Donut with a dandy dollop of whipped cream.

The race twisted through Jade Jack Russell Junction, where the nimble-footed locals zipped ahead with an easy grace. Me? I relied on my signature tactic—bulldozing through any fella that dared to block my way. If cars had lanes, Mercedes had her own bulldog boulevard, and woe to the mutt that tried to merge.

We turned the final corner, and there ’twas—the finish line, situated like an oasis in Vizsla Valley. I could almost hear the savory sizzlin’ of celebratory burgers from Doggone Deli waitin’ at the end.

Outta nowhere, I felt a surge of energy born of pure, unbridled love for human food. French fries, burgers, pizza—if my favorite things could race, I’d been chasin’ ’em down faster than a Greyhound on espresso!

With that image serenadin’ my pointy little mind, I gathered my might, legs churnin’ like a bulldog possessed. Lucy was in the lead when she slipped—a shard of pizza crust thrown by a spectator. That’s when my stocky frame, built more for lovin’ than racin’, muscled its way through.

I crossed the line with a triumphant woof, plopped right there on my rear like a human. The crowd cheered, and Scruffy strutted over, wagglin’ his non-existent eyebrows. “Well, color me impressed, Mo Mo.”

“Guess my charm’s got speed after all,” I puffed, tail waggin’ more from the promise of a donut feast than the victory itself.

In Pawsburg, ya never know what surprises the day might bring, but one thing’s for sure: Wherever there’s food and fun, you’ll find me, Mo Mo, in the thick of it all, happy as a clam at high water.