“Hey Dad, Big Herm here. Had quite an adventure in Pawsburgh today! Discovered a fried chicken joint that woofs awesome, found enlightenment at a bookstore (or was it the scents next door?), and got struck by Cupid’s arrow seeing Lilly. Got spooked near Pharmacy, remembered our nasty ear-cleaning routine. Vanilla ice-cream at Fawn Palace fixed everything though! Just another day here. Going for the ‘paws and chill’ now. 🐾 – Big Herm.”

Listen to the story here.

Here we are, floating smack-bang on a perfectly average Tuesday, the kind that seems to gift you the divine liberty of time. Now, if ‘divine’ and ‘liberty’ seem like odd word choices for a bloke like me, then you haven’t explored Pawsburgh. But hold your leashes tight. We are not just any stray souls; we belong to Herman, the rambling English Bulldog.

This quaint town of Pawsburgh is our utopia. At night, when our humans dream, we run away to this land of free-spirited frolic, where the Furrific Fried Chicken cajoles our taste buds, and North Chihuahua Castle, with its reigning canine Queen, looks out paternalistically at its loyal subjects. Now, ‘subjects’ may seem an overdressed word for us, but believe me, we dogs love our loyalty with a topping of grandeur, no different than a burger with an extra slice of cheese. And speaking of burgers, they’ve got these mesmerising plates of heaven at Paws on the Grill, where drooling is not frowned upon but celebrated.

I do find myself distracted. I blame it on the tantalizing whiffs coming from K9 Kebabs. It takes some serious effort to concentrate on narrating my tale.

Oh, wait! Herman calls!

You see, this crinkled-faced English Bulldog with a charming fawn-and-white coat, that’s my brother. Our stories blend into each other more than his colours do, and today won’t be any different.

We find ourselves at The Wagging Tail Bookstore. Herman, the not-so-avid reader, is drooling on a copy of ‘Doggy Zen.’ I suspect it’s less about enlightenment and more about the smells permeating from The Tail Wagger’s Tailor next door. Or he could be conspiring about his next digging adventure with Baker, his English Bulldog pal.

I spot Lilly, the pug princess, or as Herman calls her, ‘his fancy’. Things are about to get interesting. The only distraction greater than food for Herman is Lilly. She saunters past us, a playful wink in her direction, and he’s lost, leaving behind a puddle of drool on ‘Doggy Zen’ as a bookmark for his unrequited love.

Our day exudes carefree joy, a belly-laugh worth of comedy, until we cross paths with The Pawsome Pet Pharmacy. The ominous place reminds Herman of his despised ear-cleaning routine and the distaste visibly washes over his wrinkled face. Just the thought is enough to send shivers rumbling across his back. But we quickly trot away from such discomforts towards Fawn Pug Palace and his favorite dish of vanilla ice cream. Herman and his ice cream are like politicians and promises: inseparable.

As the day winds up into the warm twilight, and the lights of Pawsburgh twinkle like tiny stars, we return home, a lifetime of joy squeezed into a single day. Herman, our ever-faithful, crinkle-faced hero, sighs. Tomorrow, there will be more adventures, more drooling over burgers and pugs, more sitcom-worthy life in Pawsburgh. But for now, it’s snuggle time where the memories seep into dreams. Our day is complete. Tomorrow is yet another chance to ‘paws and chill.’

The End.