“Hey Dad, just another classic day in Pawsburgh with Fat Herm. Rally at Serenity Hill, nose turned up at apple but not cheeseburger treats. Almost fell for a cheeseburger-scented poodle trap! Saved face w/ a scary bark. LOL. Treating ourselves to a victory snack now. 🐶🍔 -Lil’ Conqueror”

Listen to the story here.

If I’m being honest, most days in Pawsburgh are pretty routine. We wake up, chow down some delicious treats from Bark and Bites, and begin our conquest for the throne. And when I say ‘we,’ I mean Herm and me. Yes, the infamous Fat Herm. Bulldog of the century, cheeseburger treat afficionado, and my partner in power struggles.

“There he is,” I say, pointing towards the Silver Siberian Summit where Herm is waving his wrinkled paw, his rubber ducky squeaking with each slap. “The mighty king of Pawsburg, surveying his kingdom.”

Today, our agenda includes rallying our troops — a mixture of local basset hounds and wayward collies — for our upcoming stand against those high and mighty poodles from Greyhound Grove. But before all that royal stuff, Herm and I take our usual detour through Collie Canyon.

“We should stop by Pupperoni Pizza,” I suggest, poking Herm’s square-set build playfully. Cheeseburger-flavored entrees are Pawsburgh’s best kept secret, after all.

Herm grunts in agreement, his mouth watering at the thought. As we thread our way through the narrow aisles of The Snooty Snout Boutique and The Pawsome Pet Pharmacy, Herm’s eyes sparkle at the sight of his favorite treats. Yet, when offered apple slices from the Yappy Yogurt stand, he sniffs and turns up his nose in distaste.

At the peak of Serenity Hill, we hold our rally, Herm’s rubber ducky squeaking with every enthusiastic declaration about Pawsburgh’s imminent victory.

Just as the dramatic moment climaxes, a whiff of cheeseburger-flavored treats wafts through the air, slinking from an unknown source. Herm, ever the food-obsessed conspirator, tenses up.

I roll my eyes and stifle a laugh, realizing that it’s emanating from The Groom Room, “I bet it’s those pampered poodles from the grove or maybe those Siberian Huskies, setting a trap for the noble Herm.”

He looks at me, eyes widened in what must be mock horror, his small circle of friends guffawing in the background. Then, as if a thought suddenly dawns upon him, Herm takes a valiant stance offering a bark of challenge to anyone who dares cross cheeseburger country.

Later that day, as Herm savors his victory cheeseburger, we end our cynical musings on poodle tactics, appreciating the comedy of the simple conundrum he just experienced. A day in the life of Herm, indeed.

The End.