Hey, it’s your tail-wagging adventurer, Wally here. Just trotted through Pawsburg, chased a flying frisbee on Husky Hill, and unearthed the legend of the neon-yellow duck. Leaving breadcrumbs for a good sniff! Back before dawn for chicken and cuddles. -Wally the Wanderer

Listen to the story here

Into the cool, eerie silence of a lonely Monday night, as the humans began to surrender themselves to slumber, a sly grin spread across the face of Wally Bear. Ah, indomitable Wally Bear, the daring rascal; there stood his chance to journey undetected to the marvelous world of Pawsburg.

It seemed inconceivable, the opportunity was enticing. Leaving the confining world of human constraints for an adventure was, after all, a dog’s ultimate escapade. Per adventure, of course, my humans might disagree. “Evan and Logan, those brothers of mine, they would be miffed, nostrils flaring, whilst their beloved bulldog brother was afoot, gallivanting off past twilight!”

Away from the home, where brussels sprouts were shoved away and well-cooked chicken relished; past the park with its capacious old oak tree, Wally trotted off. The path led him through the playful wilds of Yellow Tan Dalmatian Desert, the searing sand making his toes tingle. It garnered a chuckle from him envisioning a desert filled with Dalmatians in the wee hours of night.

Safely across the desert, trotting out of the sand dunes, he reached the coasts of Red Beagle Beach. In his typical bulldog style, he pondered the Red Beagles that roamed the beachfront. Wagging his tail at the ethereal smell of sea and fish wafting from Fur Tacos, he carried on his voyage to his final destination – the Husky Hill, renowned for its unexplained mysteries and allure.

A couple of hours later, while I was chewing on a biscuit from The Woofy Bakery, a friend of mine, a wily fox terrier named Skippy from The Snooty Snout Boutique, ran up to me, breathless and a little terrified. Speaking in hushed tones, he tells me of a flying neon-yellow rubber duck over the Husky Hill. A flying rubber duck, can you imagine?

Emboldened by curiosity, I set about investigating the strange occurrence, armed with the belief that every mystery in Pawsburg holds a plausible explanation, to be engaged by determined seekers. Towards Husky Hill I trudged, armed only with my wits, courage, and the firm belief that the truth, however bizarre, was out there waiting, somewhere on Husky Hill.

A mystery was afoot indeed in Pawsburg. As I discovered later the flying duck was a misplaced frisbee, recolored by the twilight’s hue. Returning from Husky Hill, my heart lighter, tail higher, I considered the intricate complexity of Pawsburg’s society, each layer unfolding as we dared to step beyond and within. It’s a great dog’s life, isn’t it?

The End.

Share This Story: