“Emptied Pawsburg today, me+Sq.Hedgie jumped timelines to East Bulldog Bay. Know what? Cats wanted to dine at Yappy Yogurt, even Ginger was there! Persuaded both paws and claws with the promise of lifetime chook from W’nW, saved the day again. Home now, awaitin’ the next Watson vacay for more inter-era moments. – Duke TimeTail”

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As I lay under the luminescent glow of the old lamppost, belly full of grilled chicken from Chow Hound Café, an uncanny silence swallowed Pawsburg. Mrs. Watson had gone to visit her ornery sister in Boise. Now, in the twilight, the cobblestones of Lower Golden Gate Gardens gleamed, and echoes of fun filled yesterdays bounced from its corners. A perfect setting, I’d say, for another thrilling adventure.

Reminiscing about times when Ginger and I have successfully saved Pawsburg from looming dog-astrophes, I picked up my trusty toy – squeaky hedgehog – alias the “Time-Traveler’s Compass.” Macabre it might be for a dog toy to function as a time machine, but so it goes.

All it takes is a squeeze, a squeak, and a whirlwind of colors to travel across timelines. I remember the time we stopped a coup d’état of militant squirrels in Tudor England. Those…were the good old times. But right now, something nagged at me. You see, that uncanny silence I mentioned, it felt…off.

My tail started wagging involuntarily, a beat in sync with my growing suspicions. “Time to be the hero, Duke,” I heard Ginger’s absent voice echo. Squeezing my squeaky hedgehog tightly, I watched the cobblestones ripple and warp beneath my paws, a curtain of time fluttering open before me.

I found myself in the hubbub of East Bulldog Bay, an era not my own, marked by cobbled streets echoing with strange dialects and thrumming with an air of excitement. There wasn’t any seawater, the thing I detest the most, just sights and smells familiar yet foreign. I had a paw into Canine Couture Clothing when I saw the crowd gathering.

Turns out that the feline residents of Pawsburg were on strike. They demanded equal rights to dining spaces in Yappy Yogurt. Amid all the chaos, I spotted a cat, quite grumpy, staring at me. Recognition fluttered in my heart. Ginger!

Utilizing my charm, I persuaded the ticked-off cats and the reluctant dogs into a negotiation. With a few barks here, a few purrs there, and a promise of a lifetime supply of grilled chicken from Waggle n’ Wok, balance was restored, and Yappy Yogurt became a shared space for both felines and canines.

Gloating at the win, I looked for Ginger, and found that grumpy face, touched by a teeny, familiar smile. With the squeaky hedgehog tightly held, the day was won and my adventure in the past was nearing an end. With a blinding flash and a whirlwind of colour, I landed back in the present—on the comfy bark-a-lounger at The Wagging Tail Bookstore. Every whisker settled, every inch alive with adventure.

Making a mental note of the day’s adventure as a point to discuss during our monthly Happy Hounds Dog Walking rendezvous, I immerse myself into the peaceful rhythm of Pawsburg, my hometown, my comfort zone. Oh, the stories I’d tell! I just cannot wait for Mrs. Watson to take another trip. I have worlds to explore, adventures to live, all in a day’s work in Pawsburg.

The End.

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