“Hey Mom, just got back from a wild night in Pawsburg. Lead a paw-some gang to catch the Ghost Hound in Westie Woods. Surprise: it was Earl doing his night howls! Rounded off the night with a treat at Fishy Bites. Back in bed before dawn, dreaming of more adventures. Can’t wait to paw-ty again tonight, Pawsburg’s got its tail wagging. Love, Walter Matthau 🐶”

Listen to the story here

There I was, the lone Beagle, with eyes on a solo adventure to Pawsburg. The night was coming to life as the humans doused their lights, their soft snores beckoning me to make my escape. Off in Pawsburg awaited my comrades, mutts and breeds of every kind who like me, sought refuge under the freedom of the moonlight.

Before darkness swallowed my home, I took one last glance at my familiar yard, and my trusty tennis ball and rope toy. Both had seen countless days of tug-of-wars and toss-n-retrieves. I wagged my tail, promising them I’d be back before dawn.

Prancing down familiar streets, the smells wafting from Pawsburg were intoxicatingly inviting, and just as I was pondering which eatery to grace, I caught a whiff of a specialty from the Bone Appetit. True to form, my unfussy palate didn’t discriminate; every food smelled heavenly. That I, the ever-affable Walter, singlehandedly fueled Pawsburg’s bustling canine-dining scene was not lost on me.

My jovial thoughts were abruptly cut short by an echoing sound in the distance – a chilling “wooo-wooo-wooo!” – a legend told of a Ghost Hound haunting Westie Woods. Like any thriller plot, Pawsburg had its own specter. A chill ran down my spine, a blink away from hysteria. But wait, aren’t I known for my curiosity, my playful spirit, my—unfortunate—stubbornness?

“Alright, Ghost Hound,” I said, setting my eyes on the woods, “Walter is on the case!”

Familiar faces followed me—the Dalmatian twins, the German Shepherd champ, and the ever-so-sassy Chihuahua belle. They knew me, looked up to me. Together we frolicked and dashed through Red Beagle Beach and past the Barking Boutique onto the eerie path to Westie Woods.

The woods lived up to its ghostly reputation- a negative image of our lively town under the spectral moonlight. Branches creaked, leaves rustled, the wind whispered unwelcoming comments in my ear. Suddenly, another “wooo-wooo-wooo!” filled the woods—a low growl escaped me. I wasn’t ready to be spooked out just yet.

We crept forward, doggedly pursuing the sound, until we discovered it was none other than Earl the Bulldog lodged between two trees, practising his night howling. Every tail wagged, every eye rolled, our suspense climaxed with rib-tickling laughter. So much for Pawsburg’s terrifying ghost hound!

Feeling brave and very, very hungry, we ended our thrilling escapade at Fishy Bites. As I dug into a celebratory feast, I could almost taste the vibrant array of tomorrow’s escapades at Retriever River.

Returning home before dawn, I found comfort under my human’s warm, heavy blanket and dreamt of another exciting adventure at the heart of Pawsburg – a town alive with character, camaraderie, and at times, ‘hauntingly’ hilarious!

Pawsburg, my friends, is a night-time TV sitcom – a thriller that leaves you wagging tails at its climax and hounds you with suspense till darkness sets in. As for me, Walter, Pawsburg was an extended yard that pulled me in every night to relish my fondness for adventure and paw-licking food.

The End.