“Hey mom, surviving Apocalypse 101 for dogs – woke up in a Twinkie bed, played fetch with Sid on the beach, laughed at Rex trying to fix a fan, ate Bella’s chicken pizza, read a book & enjoyed a serene sunset – all without a single vacuum cleaner! Pawsburg rocks, no zombies! Barks, Millie 🐾”

Listen to the story here.

“Ahem, testing, testing, 1 2… 3… dog biscuit? Great, this still works. People think the apocalypse meant the end of everything, but here I am, a dog named Millie, dictating my memoirs. Of course, the world of canines had been different. After the humans’ world crumbled, we ended up in Pawsburg. A city designed for us. Who knew?!

It’s a weird morning as I wake up, stretching on my bed of expired Twinkies in Pawsburg, my tricolor coat blending with the patchwork surroundings. Blue and brown eyes scan the room before I decide: ‘Fetch first, scrounging for canned food, second!’ I picked up my Sid Sloth stuffy, best find from an abandoned kiddie room, and head to Bullmastiff Boardwalk.

En route, I run into Rex, the goof of a German shepherd that works at the Howling Husky Hardware. With a wrench in his mouth, he’s probably’s fixing something again, “Ya breakin’ thumethin’, Rex?” I ask, trying not to giggle.

“Naw,” he barks, muffled, “Jeth tryin’ ta make a fan dat worksh!” Laughing, I suggest he takes it to Spot, the actual Mechanic. Only in Pawsburg could a dog with massive paws try to be a precision instrument repairman.

Shaking my head, I move towards my favorite hangout – Spotted Red Beagle Beach. It’s desolate but the water still feels great on the paws. I’ve got Sid ready, our own special game of fetch commencing. Ah, the small joys of life!

I head down to Pup-Tastic Pizza for lunch. Bella, the ever-grumpy Chihuahua, serves my favorite chicken pizza. “Foraging successful again?” she snarks. I laugh, “As always, Bella, as always.”

Post lunch, I decide to do some reading at The Wagging Tail Bookstore. I squint at the ‘Canine’s Guide to Human Walks,’ trying to decipher the complex art. The day moves slow, no zombies in sight, thankfully. Dogs didn’t like zombies, too much moaning and not enough treats.

As the sun set over Western Husky Hill, it painted the sky with the perfect play of colors. None of the machines were running today, so no sudden noises to ruin the peace. The biggest perk of the apocalypse: it shut up those damn vacuum cleaners!

Dragging my tired bones, but satisfied heart, I make it back home. This old firehouse, my recruit-rescue friends, the extinguished flame above the door reminding us of the forgotten life. We’re just survivors in this barren humanity, creating our adventures in a world soothingly silent of human chatter. But this was home, our Pawsburg. Our laughter, more like barks, can still be heard late into the night, as we revel in our world of tranquility amidst chaos.”

The End.