“Hey Dad, This is Oreo! Big news, taught Poodle Vinnie a lesson tonight. Lured him & his snooty gang to a feast by Chef Spags, ended up tasting like my failed cookie batch. Their prissy faces were priceless! Eventually, being the noble Boxer I am, sorted things out with a burger. Ah, life in Pawsburgh! Your adventurous boy, Oreo.”

Listen to the story here.

Well, here I am, Oreo, king of the Pawsburgh scene, my brindle coat blending seamlessly with the velveteen backdrop of the night! Geez, it’s a dog’s life, and not just any dog, mind you, but a Boxer with an adventurer’s spirit and, dare I say it, a challenging dual nature.

You see, Pawsburgh transforms after dark when everyone thinks we’re snoozing in dreamville. It’s where I escape to, Jeez! I mean, what’s a curious, burger-loving, stuffed-toy-destroying, ever-loyal-of-sort Boxer to do? You know? Almost unnatural, having a fondness for stuffed toys. Can’t figure out why, other than the squeak, after all, I’m not a squeaky toy in my past life, am I?

It was just another night in Pawsburgh, the Red Beagle Beach glaring in the moonlight, casting a crimson glow over this canine utopia. Me and my nephew Timber, true to our tradition, had made a beeline to The Bone Appetit for our usual ‘burger-binge’, a ritual that could only be compared with a Labrador finding a tennis ball!

However, something felt awry that night. There, amidst the hustle and doggy bustle, stood ‘Poodle Vinnie’, the snobby canine, who believed he was superior, just because he shopped at the Snooty Snout Boutique. The last time we met at the Pug Palace, let’s just say the encounter was as pleasant as a flea bath, y’know?

He’d purloined my favorite burger, while I was distracted by a rather fetching Schnauzer, and reported me to the Pawsburgh Poodles-For-Policing for supposedly being discourteous. Me, Oreo – discourteous! It still boggles the old noggin.

So what’s a Boxer got to do? It was time for some retaliation, a bit of bark and some bite! I asked Timber, who was happily gnawing on a kibble – “How about a little diversion at Paws On The Grill? We’ll invite Spags, the squirrel.”

I saw that mischievous sparkle in Timber’s eyes, “Oh! Just like the time with the cookies, huh?”

And so, the plot thickened like a good stew in Grandma Lura’s kitchen. We invited the entire Snooty gang to a meal. They arrived, in all their pomp and watched as ‘Chef Spags’ prepared a gourmet feast. The smell wafting from the grill could make your tail wag involuntarily.

“Here’s your gourmet meal, Poodle Vinnie,” I announced, with an equally pompous bow. But as the Poodle took a bite, he winced, “These taste like Oreo’s rejected cookies!” The snooty gang started gagging, their frilly bibs now a symbol of their capitulation.

Revenge, they say, is a dish best served grilled! Yet, the affable Boxer that I am, I extended an olive branch, metaphorically speaking, of course; dogs can’t hold branches unless it’s a stick and there’s a ball involved! I offered him their all-time canine cure-all, a good old burger. After all, we’re all dogs in the same park, right?

The End.