“Hey Mom, another crazy day. Woke up to Buns as usual. Snuck off to Pawsburg for more adventures. Burgers and cucumber for brunch, errands done, mockeries with Enzo made. There are dog bathers now, can you believe it? Anyway, off to bed. Love, B. Buns”

Listen to the story here.

I woke up today or rather, was awoken. Bronson, the two-tone English Bulldog, with his mismatched ears and defiant teeth, stood by my bed, demanding attention. Visions of Pawsburg in his eyes, I could tell. Ahh, Pawsburg…a secret doggy haven where urban K9s can romp around Golden Gate Gardens, fetch sticks at Labradoodle Lake, and chase their tails in Greyhound Grove, all while we humans suffer sleepless nights, wondering where our adventurous pooches have scampered off to when we’re not looking.

Being all alone? No siree, not for Bronson. Every day he sneaks off to Pawsburg while I’m away, not even leaving a note buried under his plush Dino Bone or his beloved Nyla Bone, slathered with remnants of peanut butter. It’s good to have known that Bronson was on a secret mission, keeping the dog town of Pawsburg secured, which, honestly, made the lettuce sandwiches somewhat more acceptable.

Today, after our share of morning cuddles, Bronson bolted off, hardly giving me a second glance. Another day at Pawsburg, another day of adventures. I imagine him off to ‘Kibble Cuisine’ for his morning brunch. Their doggie cheeseburgers, without the lettuce of course, were Bronson’s favorite, paired with a bowl of cucumber slices.

In between his meals and naps at Fishy Bites, he ran errands, setting off to The Tail Wagger’s Tailor to fetch his favorite red bandana, and to The Howling Husky Hardware Store, for more peanut butter bones perhaps. Then off to the Spa for Paws to spit at the dog bathers, but still, he felt compelled to walk away with his paws all clean and shiny.

Then there’s his friend, Enzo. Picture the grumpy Chihuahua from next door, a bit moody, a bit snappy. But in Pawsburg, these two were like a pair of mismatched socks, inseparable and oddly fitting. Mischiefs abound, with mailmen mockeries and housecat hoaxings, a regular doggy sitcom! I’d give my right arm to be a fly on the wall during one of their schemes.

Towards the day’s end, he’d sneak back home, happily panting, still radiant with the Pawsburg aura. Bronson never cared much for the city, would rather spend his time in the humdrum of Pawsburg than try to make friends with the dogs next door. As the sun set, he’d find his way back to our cozy backyard, curl up, and slip into dreams that, no doubt, were riddled with visions of his favorite spots in Pawsburg. And I’d watch him, an ordinary dog by day, an adventurer by night, marveling how every night Pawsburg slept with him, right here in the backyard.

Bronson, the solitary English Bulldog: ordinary to the world, but a hero to the dog town of Pawsburg – and, of course, to me.

The End.