Hey Dad,
An epic night unfolded with my gang under Pawsburgh’s glow. Zig-zagged from summit to Collie Canyon, eventually hit Dog-gone Good BBQ. Casual detours included Boss’ fashion spree. The universe played cruel joke and delivered a package of… veggies. Horrifying, I know! Shook it off, our feast went on. Barked and scarfed down steak and chicken, it was legendary. Not to sound philosophical, but tonight proved life’s not about dodging the green stuff, it’s all about the BBQ moments. Anyways, thought you’d love the canine gossip.
~ Teddy Bear

So there I was, the illustrious Hercules, sauntering down to Lower Silver Siberian Summit, my red and white speckled coat reflecting the soft glow of the Pawsburgh moonlight. Not a bad place, this. I mean, granted, it’s no concrete jungle, but hey, a dog could do worse for a playground. Margaux, Beatzie, Boss, Coco, and Tank, my gang of merry mutts, were tagging along, their wagging tails creating quite the commotion.

Our mission? To procure a meal at the much-acclaimed Dog-gone Good BBQ and perhaps engage in a bit of tomfoolery along the way. After all, what is a road trip without a few unforeseen detours, unexpected pit-stops, and unplanned shenanigans?

As we strolled along Collie Canyon, Boss suddenly veered off towards his favorite canine clothing emporium, Canine Couture Clothing. “Gonna pick up a new bandana,” he barked back at us, with more enthusiasm than the situation warranted. “Isn’t that just like Boss? Turning even the most casual attire into a grand occasion,” I chuckled, rolling my eyes.

Back on course and with our stomachs rumbling, we made haste to Dog-gone Good BBQ. Unfortunately, the journey had made my companions oblivious to one important detail: the human delivery person from The Dapper Dog Salon and Spa for Paws – a constant thorn in my paw in otherwise comfortable Pawsburgh.

“Delivery for um…Hercules?” the man stuttered, peering down at his clipboard. “What’s this?” I thought with instant suspicion, “A package? And why the smear of something so green? That looks suspiciously like– No! It couldn’t be!”

As my friends, their senses dulled by hunger and the anticipation of smoky meats, half-heartedly tugged me away, I stole a glance at the open box. As my worst fears confirmed themselves, a shudder ran down my spine.

“Vegetables,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whine. All around me, the world seemed to blur, until there was just me, the green terror beneath my snout, and an insipidly smiling delivery person. But being Hercules, I brushed it off, gave the delivery chap my signature side-eye, and rejoined my eagerly waiting party.

Let me tell you, though, nothing compares to the riotous joy of feasting with friends on a quest. And as we scarfed down delectable steak and chicken, washing it all down with a fine bowl of tilapia broth, I came to an amusing and deeply profound realization.

“In the grand scheme of things, the V-word (you know, the green stuff, I can’t force myself to spell it) is just a minor inconvenience on the road of life. It’s the ‘BBQ’ moments with comrades that make our tails wag,” I mused aloud, and my friends barked their agreement.

And so, as the moon dipped beneath the edges of Pawsburgh, casting a silvery sheen over our canine escapades, we lazed spent and satisfied, ready to greet another day of adventures. As for me, Hercules, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory of my face when confronted by those green invaders.

Just a day in the life of an English Bulldog, living it up in Pawsburgh, eh!

The End.