Hey Mom, just wanted to let you know I’ve been chasing squirrels, making new friends, and wagging my tail non-stop. Life’s a real adventure out here! 🐾 – Your Queen Sammie

You know, when my human, fondly referred to as “Mom”, finally plopped down into bed that fateful night, I didn’t waste a second. As soon as I heard that familiar snore, I sprang into action—or as much springing as my short, fluffy self could muster. Yes, I, Sammie, the nine-time mother and undisputed queen of Wigglebutts, dashed out the doggy door with all the grace and determination of a fawn-colored missile.

Destination? Pawsburg, of course. You’ve heard of the place, right? The mystical town where we dogs gather when our humans are none the wiser. But let me tell you about this one particular adventure, because even in dog years, it was one for the books.

As I waddled down Affenpinscher Avenue—a street teeming with the scents of last night’s supper and fresh morning dew—I felt a peculiar sort of pilgrimage calling to me. Perhaps it was the memory of chicken wafting through the air, or just a compelling need to escape the clutches of the terrifying vacuum monster back home. Either way, my soft, stubby legs took me straight to Golden Grub.

You’ve never heard of Golden Grub? Oh, you must. They have the finest chicken this side of Shar-Pei Shores. I was greeted by Tank and Laila, my larger-than-life hometown neighbors, who always managed to weave themselves into my escapades—like burrs in fur, bless them.

“An extra drumstick for me, Sammie?” Tank boomed, his voice deeper than a St. Bernard’s bark but filled with the gentle insistence of a dog who means no harm.

“Only if I get first dibs,” I retorted, with my usual blend of affection and that regal air that comes from being an older, wiser Pug.

After we satiated our appetites at Golden Grub, it was time to visit a more spirited locale: Paws and Reflect Yoga Studio. Don’t smirk; everyone knows that a good stretch is essential to keeping this plush figure limber. Plus, it’s the perfect place to reflect on one’s life—and maybe have a quick nap when the instructor isn’t looking.

I lay on my mat, reaching for a particularly ambitious Downward Dog pose when thoughts of Butch, my favorite son, flooded my mind. Oh, Butch. How I’d carried him out of the birthing box every chance I got. An endearing act my human mother always chuckles about, and understandably so. But, for me, it represented an undying love—stubborn and fiercely protective. It’s not that I didn’t care for the other pups, but Butch was special, a gem discovered amidst the rigors of newborn chaos.

Suddenly, the peaceful ambiance of the studio was disrupted by a cacophony of barks and bangs. A group of rowdy puppies, high on kibble, crashed into the room, transforming our serene oasis into a circus. I couldn’t help but laugh—a rumbling chuckle one gets from a joy that only we dogs understand. With a sigh and one last luxurious stretch, I ambled out, headed next to Critter’s Couture to treat myself to a new collar—one must keep appearances, after all.

Finally, as the crescent moon hung low over Shiba Inlet, I found myself perched on a secluded rock, reflecting upon this blissful night away from the clangs and clashes of human gadgets and their incessant ear-cleaning rituals. Pawsburg, my silent sanctuary, always called me back with its promise of chicken and companionship.

As dawn neared and the veil between our worlds grew faint, it was time to head back. With one last look at my magical playground, I covertly crept into my human’s home and snuggled into my bed, my heart light yet laden with the night’s unforgettable escapades.

You see, even in the quieter phase of my life, filled with more cuddling and less frolicking, these nocturnal adventures remind me that a dog’s spirit, no matter how seasoned, is forever keen on the pursuit of joy—be it through food, friends, or simply a fleeting, magical midnight in Pawsburg.