Hey there,

It’s your little adventurer, Baby! Just an update: We got lost in a jungle down Retriever River today (long story, tell you later). All’s well now, feeling a bit like Indiana Jones. 😄 Bruno was our brave frontiersman and I, your petite explorer, learned that I’m not a fan of raw salmon. 🐟 On another note, Pawsburg looks even more enchanting post survival adventure. See ya at home, Baby. 🐶🐾

Listen to the story here

I recollect with a whimsical chuckle the day Baby and Bruno, both gallant in spirit, embarked on an adventure that would forever disrupt the peaceful tranquility of Pawsburg. The petite Chihuahua was always an eccentric bunch to begin with, but that fateful day, she proved with greater force how her minuscule form belied her extraordinary spirit.

Here I am, crestfallen yet invigorated, eager to document our unforgettable exploits – not because of any voyeuristic drive but because our tale, one born of audacity and camaraderie, deserves not to be lost in the chasms of the past.

The day had started ordinarily enough. Just another casual jaunt from Manhattan to the Playful Pawsburg via Retriever River. We patronized our usual lunch spot, K9 Kebabs, having our fill of fine grilled chicken. Baby practically danced with joy, while Bruno and I watched with smiles lurking around our faces.

In retrospect, we should have seen the unrest in the aura of the Golden Gate Gardens. The shrubs rustled with more insistence than usual, and the clouds seemed unusually ominous. But for our adventurous selves, these were mere distractions. It was only when we found ourselves all in each other’s company, stranded on an unnamed island down the Retriever River, that the reality of our situation dawned.

Separated from the architectural beauty that was Pawsburg, facing towering ferns and ruthless jungles, we were left like three protagonists in a Thrurber play. Bruno was the first to gather his wits, stepping into his born role of the brave frontiersman, trying to decipher the labyrinth that surrounded us. Baby, always a keener, and I follow suit, mapping mental contours of our surroundings with eyes sharp as hawks.

There were moments we wobbled, like when Baby turned her dainty nose up at the salmon Bruno managed to fish out of the river. Yet, we held on, huddling together at night and sharing tales whispered through the wind in Pawsburg, offering comfort to one another in this strange circumstance.

The day of our eventual rescue brings a salty tear to my eye even today: the image of our friends rejoicing on the banks of Retriever River, the Pampered Pooch Salon organizing a welcome party, The Woofy Bakery offering celebratory treats, and Baby – our heart ever so vibrant – throwing around her little squeaky chicken in utter delight. It was a testament to the true essence of Pawsburg – a town of camaraderie, resilience, undying spirit, and unconditional love.

From that day forth, there was a remarkable shift in our otherwise delightful normality. Things seemed just a tad bit brighter, laughter a notch louder and Pawsburg — oh, dear Pawsburgh — was ever so much more enchanting through the eyes of reborn survivors. We had fought, we had survived, and now we thrived. A testament to the true spirit of Pawsburg, beautifully rendered through the bravery of a Golden Retriever, the wit of a Chihuahua, and the sheer determination – the will to survive – of three stranded friends. This is, indeed, not just a tale of survival but of unwavering friendships, of Baby, Bruno, myself and our cherished Pawsburg.

The End.

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