Hey pops! Nightly jaunt to Pawsburgh just wrapped up. Chatted with Lilly by the lake and won frisbee. Shocked pals at Pupsicle Palace with a corned beef twist on vanilla ice cream – good laughs! Vet visit still a bummer. Settled back home now, dreaming of tomorrows pranks, corned beef ice cream again maybe? Haha. Goodnight, Dad! – Wilmont

Listen to the storyhere.
The moment my human turns off the night lamp, that’s my cue. My eyes dart towards the moon, a bright silver disc hanging in the indigo sky, the clandestine messenger of my secret life away from home. Tonight, as always, I, Albert, am off to Pawsburgh.

It starts with a gentle trek across the Golden Gate Gardens. My paws pad silently over dew fresh grass, the shadows playing hide and seek with my wrinkly, fawn-colored face and that distinctive white stripe – my trademark that sets me apart in this bustling canine society.

A few blocks further is Labradoodle Lake, reflecting the moonlit peace. I see Lilly, the charming pug, at the edge of the water – a chance for our daily catch-up.

“Evening, Albert!” She greets, a little more cheerful than necessary. “Did you remember our frisbee challenge?”

How could I forget? Boldly, I throw down my blue frisbee, a gauntlet of anticipation in a bustling duel. That blue marvel soars across the placid lake, ripples breaking its reflections in hypnotic spirals. Always competitive, Lilly springs, a swift ripple of black and white. Oh, how we bulldogs love our thrills!

Mid-adventure, our noses pick up intoxicating scents. Pupsicle Palace! A welcoming beacon of canine temptation. I stand alert, my tail wagging to the rhythm of shared excitement. I know exactly what’s next – vanilla ice cream! My bark bursts forth as an invitation to the others. They scramble behind me, a pack united by the love for sweet treats.

“Double scoop of vanilla with a sprinkle of…” I paused dramatically, “corned beef?”

The shock ripples across faces, Pupsicle Palace erupting in an orchestra of giggles and barks. A stubborn English bulldog ordering meat in an ice cream joint? A comedic situation if ever there were one!

The rest of the night passes in leisure, including a quick groom at The Dapper Dog Salon which left my fur skin glossier, and the laughs and barks echoing from North Chihuahua Castle.

The downside comes when we reach Woof and Whisker Wellness Center. Even in Pawsburgh, a vet’s a vet. Given my disdain for ear cleaning, that place leaves me shuddering.

Before dawn, I find my way back home. The moon dips low in the sky as I settle in my human’s room, ready for another day of chasing my red jolly ball and the occasional bouts of solitary time.

I glance once at the silhouette of Grogu, the guardian of my human world, before falling into slumber. The unmistakable smell of vanilla ice cream and corned beef still lingers on my tongue.

Every night I journey to Pawsburgh, a testament to my bolder, more social self. It’s an overload of pranks and corned beef ice cream, of furry friends and stubborn fun.

Till my next adventure, I dream under the moon’s watch—of paws, of bulldogs, of a life beyond the ordinary, uniquely mine. Or should I say, uniquely Albert’s?