“Hey Mom, escaped to Pawsburg with Enzo. Ate delicious snacks, ran in Pup-Dash – even carried grumpy Enzo when he tripped! We’re home now, no worries. Today showed me what friendship truly is. Much love, B. Buns.”

Listen to the story here

So there we were, Pawsburg, cornerstone of every dog’s dream; me, Bronson — the dashing English Bulldog with my uncharacteristically robust charm — and Enzo, the grumpy pint-sized Chihuahua.

Flushed with whimsy and novelty, we headed straight for Pup-Tizers after our sneaky escape through the backyards. The taste of their peanut-buttered bacon bit bones was apt compensation for the hustle and ruckus of our journey, only to be followed by a shared gigantic dog-bone cookie from The Woofy Bakery.

Oh, the hustle and bustle of Pawsburg! An idyllic refuge away from the drudgery of our otherwise mundane routines. Here, I wasn’t the bulldog with his penchant for cucumbers and aversion to ear-cleanings; here I was just Bronson, spectator of countless untold tales.

Our adventures led us to the much anticipated event at Maltese Meadow – the Great Pawsburg Pup-Dash! Me, participating in a race? A comical notion indeed. Enzo with his size to speed ratio, perhaps, but me, the bulky, ‘immovable object’? No siree! But it was no ordinary race, mind you! It was a dash built around an obstacle course; each boulder, hurdle, and pitfall a test not of one’s speed but one’s courage, tenacity and chiefly, one’s loyalty.

The locals predicted a swift win for the lithe, loop-running Labradoodles. And yet, right between the Whippet Whirl and the Dalmatian Dash, I felt a disconcerting nudge. It was Enzo; after a brave tumble, he lay incapacitated and dazed.

Knowing the stakes, I looked to the sideline, to the concluding dash barely a hind-legs’ jump away. I looked down at Enzo. Wasn’t this the rascal who absolutely loathed my grating teeth cleaning sessions? And what about me, the ‘loyal’ companion who found his company more about convenience than camaraderie? Yet, as I lifted Enzo onto my strapping back and began our trudge of unity, all notions of point-scoring and canine camaraderie blurred.

That day, Pawsburg didn’t witness the typical bulldog stubbornness or the stereotypical Chihuahua standoffishness. Instead, they witnessed an authentic exemplification of unwavering loyalty, perseverance, and love. The Great Pawsburg Pup-Dash was for me, not a mere sporting event, but an occasion that ushered in a newfound, profound respect for dear old grump, Enzo.

Yeah, it was a fine day indeed. As night fell, we stealthily returned home, as if adventures in Pawsburg were normal, like digging holes in a garden or chasing after one’s tail. But every night hence, the moonlit shadows of Pawsburg whisper tales of an unlikely bulldog-Chihuahua comradery and a dash that changed the sporting-landscape of Pawsburg forever.

The End.