Hey Mom (Pumpkin here)!

I had quite the day! Scoffed down roast beef and chicken at The Fetching Deli and noticed a nervous Fido. He mentioned someone nabbed Rishi, my beloved chewy fish toy. Being the brave Bulldog I am, I embarked on a chilly mission through the Siberian Summit, all the way to the Fetching Feline Pet Emporium in White Westie Woods. And guess what, Rishi was there, lounging atop lavish kitty cushions! Swiftly secured Rishi, and now we’re back home, ready for sleep. Who says dogs’ lives are dull? Woof! 💕 🐾

Sweet dreams,
Dolly aka Pumpkin

Every day was much like other in the delightful doggy dominion of Pawsburgh—equal parts mischief and mishap, seasoned with a soupçon of intrigue.

I, Dolly, your dainty British Bulldog protagonist, was hastily tucking into breakfast at The Fetching Deli, scarfing down my favored roast beef and chicken sandwiches, when I noticed something peculiar. My friend Fido, sitting two tables away, seemed fretful. His pancake lay untouched, a most unusual sight for the massive Mastiff. But then again, a morning of espionage does tend to take your appetite away.

The plot, thick as my favorite beef stew at Doggy Donuts, revolved around Rishi the Fishy. Yes, that’s right—my favorite chewy toy. Absurd, I agree, but clearly, international canine intelligence was paw-ssibly not as sophisticated as it thought itself to be.

On the previous night, while all of Pawsburgh was sleeping off another day of sniffing and scampering, Rishi was stolen from my toy trove at home. Now, I can tolerate a number of things, including my human’s tendency to forget hamburger Tuesdays, and the occasional rumble of thunder that sends all of us scampering for cover, but toy theft? Oh, that’s a no-no.

I bade Fido good day and sauntered over to The Pawsome Pet Pharmacy, my mind racing like a greyhound on rabbit day. I had to figure out who had stolen Rishi, and why. Plotting my course while munching on a doggie donut, I made my way through the Lower Golden Gate Gardens towards the frosty frontier of the Siberian Summit, an area rarely ventured into—especially by a particular dog with a fear of loud noises and a dislike of solitude. But needs must, and duty called—even if duty was shaped like a chewy fish.

The Summit was uneventful, save for a squirrel skirting in the snow, a sight that I might’ve relished on any other day. But time was running out. The Fetching Feline Pet Emporium at White Westie Woods was about to close, and if Rishi the Fishy had been smuggled out, this would be the place.

I trotted through the snow-capped trees, their tranquil whiteness sharp against the darkening skies. The Emporium was now but a stone’s throw away.

I had decided by the entrance that I’d approach this in the manner befitting a British royalty—nonchalantly. So, I waltzed in, putting on my snooty snout (borrowed, I assure you, solely for this purpose), and scoured the shelves. And there it was, Rishi the Fishy imperiously perched atop plush pile of Persian feline pillows. Oh, the audacity of it!

In pure espionage style, I swiped Rishi off the shelf, tucked it beneath my speckled muzzle and trotted out triumphantly. Another thrilling day in Pawsburgh was drawing to a close. And as the moon lifted its sleepy head over our quaint little town, I, Dolly the dainty British Bulldog, international spy extraordinaire, settled in for a well-deserved nap, clutching my beloved Rishi close.

So that was my day—who could possibly dare say we canines lead boring lives? Mere humans can only dream of such exhilaration!

The End.