“Hey Mom, crazy morning in Pawsburg! Took a sprint, missed Spot Squirrel. Town’s in snooze mode. Figured out why – ‘Washerwoman’s Parade’ Day! OMG, the horror! Near miss with an impromptu bath! Can still smell the non-existing BBQ. All’s good, though. M’s spirit still up! TTYL, Pawsburg’s Perilous Princess aka Millie.”

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An early morn it was in Pawsburg, the sun casting long, lazy shadows over Beagle Beach, and quite against the rules of our placid doggy state, chaos was already afoot. For Millie, the merle mix who brinks upon anarchy on an Olde English Bulldog’s schedule, it began as any other day— with a high-tailed sprint to the Dalmatian Desert for a roll in the sand. Then on to the Westie Woods for a hearty round of “forget the ball, chase the squirrel.” Only today, the squirrel had chosen not to show. Unfortunate, perhaps but no disaster surely.

Hurling towards Yappy Yogurt, her tongue anticipating a luscious lapping of lassi-flavored cream, she did pause. A barren silence hung over the usual morning hubbub. Dog-gone Good BBQ, pulsating with the aroma of smoky goodness, was ominously vacant. Bow Wow Bistro, a gourmet’s delight, likewise void of life.

“I imagine some dogs would consider a ‘Closed for Repairs’ sign a crisis of biblical proportions,” I muttered to Millie, her fawn patches shimmering in the morning light. “I can’t tell if we’ve stumbled across an epidemic or, or…” Millie’s unblinking blue eye stared back, her brown eye squinting in the sunlight, both shining with an inexplicable knowing.

Suddenly it clicked. Like the clunk of that detestable vacuum at home. “The Annual Washerwoman’s Parade!” I exclaimed. The very day when all the dogs in town hid away for fear of an impromptu cleaning. No doubt, Millie looked back at me, her tail wagging, and I could almost read her mind. “So, no BBQ then?”

Venturing to the Wagging Tail Bookstore, we found it deserted as well. A leaflet pinned on the door confirmed our suspicions. Yapping about the parade, serving as a reminder for dogs to hide or face the consequence—a dreaded wash!

“And a bath, Millie, is a disaster that no pooch in their right mind should face on a fine day in Pawsburg!” I declared gravely, watching her face take in the idea of this upheaval. Her blue eye blinked at me, her response as defiant as ever. My voice disappeared into the howling silence. Millie’s sloth toy squeaked under her paw, sounding mildly shocked at the sudden silence.

Then, we walked, amidst closed shops and abandoned toys, back to the relative safety of our yard. Millie’s tail wagged, dismissing the disaster with a promise to return to her gorgeous town the next day. Even amid crisis, Millie’s spirit was unshakable. A day in the life, indeed!

One does wonder whether the Wash Parade committee ever considered the mini-disasters left in their wake, among the Millie’s of the world, unsuspecting even as they romp towards an unseen disaster. Then again, even in darkness, Pawsburg finds its light. Perhaps that’s the secret ingredient of life, the ability to roll with the changes. Not so different from a roll in the sand, right Millie?

The End.