“Hey ma & pa, got busy today! Soaked up some sun, dropped my Stuffed Squirrel, chatted with Wes about his idea. We formed a dog band, ‘Pawsburg Pawrchestra’! Had a blast shopping for costumes and tunes, and guess what? Our debut at the Chow Hound Café was a hit! Turns out your homebody Puggie has some lead vocalist chops. Who knew, right? Woof hard, dream big, love Puggie.”

Listen to the story here

I was sprawled on my favorite sunspot in the backyard, soaking in the warmth of the afternoon when it happened. The Stuffed Squirrel slipped from my jaws, landing by my paw with a squeak that broke me from my reverie. Around me, the tradesmen of Happy Hounds Dog Walking were cheerily doing their jobs, the regular busyness of Pawsburg echoing in my comfortable solitude.

That’s when Wesley, dear, insouciant Wesley, scampered into view, an aura of urgent excitement encircling his French Bulldog frame. “Pbear,” he huffed, his little legs carrying him closer, “let’s sneak off to Pawsburg. We’re forming a band!”

“Pawsburg!” I repeated in surprise, my large eyes widening a notch further. I envisioned the Golden Gate Gardens, Westie Woods, and the Bullmastiff Boardwalk – all places brimming with pawesome pals and adventures.

“Yes, Pbear! The Pawsburg Pawrchestra! We’re going to sing our hearts out and dance across the Chow Hound Café stage.” Wesley wagged his tail encouragingly. Tiki and Anna, the Chihuahuas, joined in the merry wagging. I rarely ventured out when my humans were not around. But the idea of a singing band of dogs, prancing merrily on the platform at Chow Hound Café?! Ah, to hell with being shy. I was in.

Gathering our spirits and our notes, we tiptoed our way to Pawsburg. The night was alive with a thousand scents and sounds. Anna was scouting for costumes at Canine Couture Clothing while Tiki and I were flipping through a collection of tune books in The Wagging Tail Bookstore.

A series of melodious barks later, our band was ready for debut. The rusty, clunky sounds of our initial rehearsals had transformed into studied, harmonious pieces, thanks to our synchronized woofs.

As the spotlight shone upon us on D-day, I could feel a shiver coursing through my fur. The clatter of dishware from The Bone Appetit and the frozen Pupsicle Palace seemed deafening. My large eyes scanned the crowd, seeking out familiar faces.

Then, remembering Wesley’s encouraging tail wag, my own tail reciprocated and the words rolled off my tongue in a melodious bark, the entire band joining in the canine chorus. The crowd erupted in cheers and hollers, our faithful friends barked along, and I realized that Pbear, the Pug, was also Pbear, the Pawrchestra lead vocalist.

In that moment, I understood that even though I was a Water Hating, Home Body Pug, the lure of adventure and friendship could make me do things I never thought I could.

“Who knew, eh?” I murmured later that night, nestled against Wesley, back in our neighborhood as the sun kissed Pawsburg goodbye, my Stuffed Squirrel back comfortably in my jaws. “Who knew we’d be a hit?”

The grin was evident in Wesley’s voice, “That’s the magic of Pawsburg, Pbear. Who knows what new adventure awaits us tomorrow?”

After all, every tubby Pug has her day, and mine, dear reader, happened to start with a squeak and ended in an applause. Dream big, woof hard.

The End.