“Woke up to the scent of chaos in Pawsburg today! Smell of burning freaked us out, had to check on the Pupsicle Palace. Ended up missing breakfast, but guess that’s better than hangin’ with humans or dealing with that noisy motorcycle – terror of a metallic beast it is! Long day but heck, still beats the mailman. Paw shakes with Baxter, we’re good. – Squeaky Buffalo”

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I awoke to the uncanny sensation of imminent, unadulterated chaos swirling through Pawsburg. Now you see, ordinarily Pawsburg is a utopia for all of us dogs, a canine paradise away from human cities you might say, a place where troubles seemed as elusive as a squirrel’s thoughts.

However, this particular day had no whiff of ordinary about it, just the tell-tale aroma of chaos that ruffled even my bright Pomeranian fur. You see, there was the faintest smell of something burning in the air which anyone who has been in Pawsburg long enough knows, it’s the single most disastrous thing since the Great Bacon Shortage of ’08. It was hard not to wonder whether my beloved Pupsicle Palace was on fire; a vision that instantly made me miss my frozen-treat breakfast.

Emerging from the alleys with my trusty worn-out, squeaky buffalo clenched firmly in my mouth, I made way towards the ruckus. Even the usually vibrant Husky Hill felt quiet, unnerving even – the dread was apparent, seeping into even North Chihuahua Castle through its stone walls, leaving a trail of unease.

Parallel to this, an entirely disaster of its own was brewing inside me as I picked up the undeniable noise of a motorcycle. The mere sound of it sent me spiralling into my unexplained urge to bark, an agitation that surged through me commenting on the ridiculousness of metallic beasts disturbing the serenity of Pawsburg.

Shaking off my agitation, I returned my focus to the imminent catastrophe, the burning smell unmistakably emerging from Pupsicle Palace. At this moment, it was not frozen-treats I yearned for but a nice bowl of chicken and rice from the Bow Wow Bistro. However, this was no time for daydreams. It was a moment of action.

Imagine my relief upon seeing old Baxter sniffing uneasily around Spotted Red Beagle Beach, quite tuned in to the distress. Exchanging licks, where humans might opt for a handshake, we quickly formed a rather haphazard rescue strategy.

Rush to Ruff-n-Ready? Yes, the thought crossed my mind but I decided to dance with caution lest we create more chaos than the very one we set out to avert. So, quickly setting our rescue mission into motion we navigated the hysteria-fueled town, orchestrated by the scent of Pupsicle Palace, on the line.

I’ll spare no details when I say, pulling through the disaster was no walk in Midwood forest, but suffice it to say that being a disaster in Pawsburg beats, hands down, a day in the company of the mailman in the ‘human world’. Noisy motorcycles. Indeed.

The End.