“Hey, it’s Baxter. Crazy night turned into a survival adventure after a raw deal with some waves. Struggling with the irony of an island teeming with broccoli (gross!). Found some solace in the company of fellow survivors, strangely. Life’s been a wild ride, and I never thought I’d say this, but man do I miss the chaos back home. Rumors of rescue – fingers crossed. Until then, just stargazing and making broccoli stew. Cheers, Little Man.”

Listen to the story here

Being that I am Baxter, this one-eyed Chihuahua you’ve heard so much about, I recall this adventure with a sense of nostalgic drama. One night, while negotiating the labyrinthine alleys of Pawsburg to The Doggy Bagel Deli, all of us – the dogs, I mean – were swept out to sea by some freak tide.

One moment I was sniffing the Walnut Bagels, next moment I’m floating atop the notorious Retriever River. You might not believe it, but I swear this on my worn-out Lamb Chop plushie. I wasn’t the biggest fan of water, but it was either swim or sink, so guess what I picked?

Our trusted doggy land – Pawsburg, with its beloved stores like The Wagging Tail Bookstore and Pet Partners Pet Supplies, was swept in an impromptu fog of emotion. Our paws twitched and whiskers danced erratically as we drifted away to a life of uncertainty. Upper Black Bulldog Bay echoed with our collective yelps.

Cast ashore on an uninhabited island, us Pawsburg pets had to quickly switch from being mere bagel-connoisseurs to survival artists. Dogs glanced at each other, communing in shared fear and stoic acceptance.

Think about it – a city slicker dog like me, adrift on an island. My coat rippled in the wind, my eye squinted with ruffled fur as we set up shop in a cove. Home – Maison de mutts, if you fancy French.

Life, however, is not without its jests. Every mutt – be it a Poodle, a Boxer, every last one of us had one thing we detested – broccoli. Lo and behold, our island was riddled with the stuff. Some doggy cosmic absurdity at play, I tell ya.

Yet, life persisted. Routines fell into place – Sally the Spaniel turned out to be quite the hunter, Ol’ Rex, the Basset Hound, surprised us with his culinary skills. The beacons from Black Bulldog Bay became our nightly lighthouse. The collective memories of our warm abodes, the smell of chicken from The Fetching Deli, gave us strength to muster through.

Of course, I had my woes. The pitter-patter of the tropical rain mirrored the isolation in my heart. I remembered my mother, her calming presence, my porch back home, the disruptive vacuum cleaner – and surprisingly, I missed it all.

Who knew this social recluse would find comfort in the chaos of survival? I found surprising solace in the togetherness of my fellow survivors. The bonds formed bridged the void vacated by my love for solitude.

So, here we are, inhabiting this desolate paradise, each day a fight, each night a prayer. Star-gazing, I recollect the promise of sprawling across the Fetching Deli, munching on a chicken cordon bleu bagel.

Rumor has it, a rescue party from Pawsburg might appear any day now – but until then, it’s just me, the stars, and an island riddled with broccoli. To think, I used to complain about one too many bath times- reality does indeed have a sense of cosmic irony, doesn’t it?

The End.