“Max had me racing my paws off when he ghosted us. Feared the worst till his mug popped back up. Who knew solitude-loving huskies were such drama queens? Adventures don’t cease in good ol’ Pawsburg. Grilled chicken to celebrate anyone?
– Samillva, Bulldog Detective Extraordinaire”

Listen to the story here

Welcome back to Pawsburg, where adventures for us canines are behind every nook and cranny. Pawsburg, where my life unfolds beneath an ever-loving cherry tree. But things took a rather odd turn yesterday.

As the morning sun kissed the marbled white and fawn patches on my fur, a sense of unease was abuzz in town. You remember Max, the aloof husky whom I consider my closest comrade, right? Well, Max hadn’t bothered to show up. Not at Pawsburg park. Not at Bark Burgers. And definitely not at our cherished hangout, the South Poodle Pond, the only water I can brave. Max’s sudden vanishing act was uncharacteristic – enigmatic – enough to force my sturdy Bulldog-self to leave the tranquil shadow of my beloved cherry tree.

Pushing through the throngs gathered at Fetch! Toys and Treats, I reached Max’s usual spot beside the Tail Wagger’s Tailor. Nothing but an unwanted echo of Max’s absence greeted me. An unplaceable fear began to skulk around the borders of my psyche, strange for a dog who’d wrestle a football to death without a sign of apprehension. As I scampered across Pawsburg, the unusual silence hit me like a rain drizzle – the one element I abhorrently wriggle away from. Nobody seemed to know anything about Max’s whereabouts.

It was at Furrific Fried Chicken that the absurdity of the situation fully dawned upon me. There I was, sitting with my thoughts over a plate of grilled chicken, not knowing what to do next to uncover my friend’s mysterious disappearance. Perhaps it was because of my partiality to grilled chicken that I visited the place next. Or maybe it was my subconscious leading me toward clues.

After my meal, I trotted over to the Tan Dalmation Desert. I can’t think what possessed me to go there at that precise moment. It was a hauntingly beautiful desolation that screamed of danger at every turn. Max despised this place. It was too analogous to his own solitary disposition. Finding no signs of Max there, I checked one last place, the Silver Siberian Summit. It towered above Pawsburg and was a challenging climb for most dogs but not for us, Max and Samillva.

As I stood on that majestic peak, under the same sun that turned my eyes a sparkling blue hue, something whispered in my ear— a revelation or perhaps a voice from the deepest corners of my mind. Maybe Max’s disappearance was a part of his world; maybe he needed time to deal with his aloof disposition or deal with fears that were even more profound than my own water-dreaded existence. A psychological puzzle. Right here, in Pawsburg. It was daunting for me to accept this, but then Max was just like that – a bundle of contradictions.

And just as swiftly as Max had disappeared, he reappeared the next morning. No explanations offered, no questions asked. The surge of relief I felt on seeing him was instantly replaced by a rush of annoyance. Could you imagine? Max put me through a whirlwind of emotions, just to have time alone. So much drama for a solitude-seeking Husky. Well, Max or no Max, mysterious Pawsburg continues to spin its tales, and I, the sturdy English bulldog with a sparkle in my eyes and grilled chicken on my mind, live to tell you them.

The End.