Hey Mom, Violet here, spinning tales in Pawsburg. Just a typical day at ‘The Bone Appetit’, swirling doggy latte and occasionally rescuing my precious squeaky ball from the fishy terrors of Spotted Red Beagle Beach. My life’s a paradox, but an entertaining one fuelled by caffeine, comedy, and an occasional dash of canine couture chaos. It’s a Dog’s life indeed!
Love, your Violent Violet.

Listen to the story here

As surely as the sun sets and Pawsburg wakes up, I find myself here again. And by ‘here’, I mean at ‘The Bone Appetit’ with a doggy latte in my wide paw, watching my crew walk in. Ahh, Pawsburg, the Baha Men’s song literally come to life, right at the heart of Cream Maltese Meadow. Okay, picture this – you can literally walk out from the Doggy Depot, cotton candy pink tutu in tow, and immediately find most of the canine haute couture community sipping cappuccino at Paws-A-Latte, exchanging secret glances and coded yaps. Outrageous, right? But that’s my everyday routine. Hi, I’m Violet.

Look, there’s my cousin Oakley. He’s like a canine Jim Carrey with muppet-like hair and his sad attempts at a walk that looks more like a wobbly Limbo Dance. Seriously, it’s like going to a comedy club every time he’s around, only that the jokes are more ‘dog’ than ‘comedy’. Just behind him is the divine Willow. If she were a human, Venus De Milo would seriously have some competition. But she’s a dog, so we just stick to terming her ‘hot’. Actually, don’t do that. It sounds gross when you say it.

Just a heads up, Annabelle’s on her way, and she looks serious. Of course, she always looks serious with those broody eyes of hers, like Clint Eastwood in an old Western, minus the hat, add the fur. But that’s the charm, right? The mystery? Or at least that’s what they tell me. I mean I’d know, I live with these charismatic weirdos.

Wait! What’s that noise? A squeal? That doesn’t sound like me at all. Oh no, it’s my squeaky ball, and it’s rolling towards Spotted Red Beagle Beach! That’s literally a nightmare for a Bulldog, and no, jokes about fat dogs are not okay. Don’t you dare leave your fancy, laptop gazing faces to giggle at my expense. Oh see, now Annabelle decides to chase the ball like a wannabe hero. Fans, hold your woofs, the Clint Eastwood of Pawsburg is on a mission.

But wait, the beach?! That’s fish town! It’s like the pariah sector for me because fish smells yucky, yet the place is undeniably popular. I mean just go check out ‘Fishy bites’ as if it’s your mother-in-law’s house. Or maybe not? How should I know? I’m a dog. I do dog stuff. But here I am, chasing after my own ball, and that, dear reader, is where the paradox of my life lies. Me, a damsel, chasing after an inanimate object, into a hoity-toity place decorated by fish smell. Can my day get any weirder?

Ohh, the things I do for love! Love for my precious toy and for this exciting, pulsating, sometimes irksome everyday mélange of dogs, doggy lattes, Squeaky balls, with a twist of comedy, that we call Pawsburg!

The End.