Hey there, it’s Angel! Your pint-sized adventurer just dived into a dicey deed at North Chihuahua Castle with Molly and Max. Lost my duck, got it back from the Petfather himself. Quite a tail-wagging tale it was! Awaiting new escapades. Hugs, Angel the Audacious.

Listen to the story here

This one time, my darling friends – Molly, who wears an expression like she knows the punch line of the universe’s grandest joke, and Max, the riot undisguised – had devised what I reckon as the most audacious exploit. It was a rather serene summer morning, our usual frolicks at Boxer Beach were being fancy tickled by this plot.

The plan was to pry into the forbidden palace of North Chihuahua Castle. A place that often thrummed with whispers about some mob boss who carried about an air of illicit opulence, while being adorably loved by his pet family. Yes, the word ‘Petfather’ is what they used – an essence of irony, peculiar to Pawsburg.

Now, we’d normally lounge at the Canine Cafe afterwards, the scent of doggy delights tickling our noses as Molly and Max would recount our escapades. But that day, their eyes glossed over with robust vigour, the thrill of anticipation hanging around them like the mist around the Western Labradoodle Lake.

In the ensuing kerfuffle of infiltrating the castle, my squeaky duck toy fell off me. You’d say it’s only a rubber duck. But, it’s the wistful resonance of my days yonder that this duck carries, something that makes my heart flinch with a quiet pain. I stood mortified, my little heart beating a mile a minute, as the ‘Petfather’, an aging bulldog with more wrinkles than a raisin, picked it up and examined my precious possession.

“Lost something, kid?” His voice held an iota of amusement, gruff and kind with undertones of that infamous authority that equaled a clenched fist.

My heart pounded in my little chest like a toy drum. “Yes sir, that’s mine,” I squeaked, tail tucked, while my audacious friends cowered outside the castle gates. Max darted nervous glances in my direction, while Molly had her gaze fixed on the Petfather.

“A lot of memories, huh?” The Petfather’s laugh was a grumble-turned-jingle. Appreciation burned in his ice-cold eyes as he handed me the duck. How extraordinary for such a mob boss to appreciate a chewed-up rubber duck. But then, sentimentality is a funny thing – it ailes you when you least expect it.

Shrugging off the shiver of fear, we soon found ourselves scampering back home. My rubber duck felt warm, resembled a ticket to an adventure lived anew. Well then, a story for our crew at Doggy Delight later, with a slice of succulent salmon and a hearty laugh — oh, the quirks of our little Pawsburg!

Yes, dear reader, I am but a Toy Poodle with a big heart for adventure, constantly tiptoeing across the line between sassy and sweet. But, at the end of the day, when the moon’s whispers paint Pawsburg in silver hues, I find myself tucking into my plush blanket, ready to dream of a new day’s escapade. As I wink off to sweet slumber, I can only imagine what’s next for us. A paddle across the Labradoodle Lake, a frolic at Boxer beach, or perhaps a feast at Bone Appetit. Keep guessing, as I bid you goodnight, till we meet tomorrow under the maple tree in our canine paradise.

The End.