Hey there, it’s Skippy. Had another wild night in Pawsburg – me ‘n Majestic Mike saving the day again. Rerouted Bark & Bites cart to squash some drama. Even found time to savor Bone Appetit. More adventures to come from Shepherds of the Skyline. Woof out! 🐾

Listen to the story here

In the quiet confines of my suburban dwelling, I, Skippy, dreamt of another thrilling evening in Pawsburg – a magical place where dogs ruled, and every adventure was but a sniff away. The delectable aroma of The Bone Appetit wafted through the midnight breeze, tickling my heightened senses. It was a fine night for an adventure, or perhaps a political coup in all the doggy style

Upon sneaking out post the midnight hour, I exchanged a quick nod with Majestic Mike, my partner in crime, public service and occasional misdemeanors. We knew our responsibilities as dashing Shepherds running a bustling town. Our march began, smooth as a hound’s tune, past the Dapper Dog Salon towards Spotted Red Beagle Beach.

My azure coat, usually a spectacle, was now concealed under the shadowy night. And for full disclosure, I was not particularly fond of the beach, for it reminded me of bananas on account of a ludicrous incident involving a seagull, a beach mat, and a banana split. Alas, that’s a tale unravelled another day.

Our task was simple. Re-route the Bark and Bites’ supply cart, heaving with tantalizing treats, to the summit of South Siberian Summit, thus averting the nearing clash at the Shepherd Skyline. The stakes were high (so were we, up on a summit, if you asked me), but duty called, or rather, howled.

Remember, this isn’t a democracy. It’s a Dogocracy. The Political Beagle Brigade and the Feathered Feline Faction (who I suspect spent too much time in the Fetching Feline Pet Emporium) were craving for a bone of contention. The squeaky crab toy offered by me as a distraction only amused them momentarily before being tossed aside, unappreciated and misunderstood. Just like 42 in this entire cosmos, if Douglas Adams was to be believed.

As we toiled away to make Pawsburg peaceful again, I smelt it. The sweet aroma of grilled chicken swirling with the night air, beckoning me towards the heavenly Bone Appetit. My tiny adventure in Pawsburg was far from over. As I glanced at Mike, his golden coat glistening under the glimmering stars, I knew more tales awaited us.

I could almost hear Douglas Adams whispering, “So long, and thanks for all the treats”, but that was perhaps just a stomach-fed fantasy or the indomitable spirit of Pawsburg resonating in the midnight air. After all, we were more than just dogs in this quaint town. We were the Shepherds of the Skyline, steering this town into a peaceful tomorrow, one bone at a time.

For this isn’t Skippy’s tale, but Pawsburg’s, and rest be assured, there is more than what meets the eye… or the snout.

The End.

Share This Story: