Hey fam, it’s me, your Bebesito, Russell 🐾 Starting a band wi’ Lucy called ‘Beach Baw-Wows’ – apparently my wrinkles are ‘in’ this season! 😂 Combatting egos, grooming breaks, n’ more! Wish me luck. Paws crossed and tails waggin’. No worries, chicken breaks included! Love ya all & we’ll update our world tour schedule soon. 😆✌️ #GoBeachBawWows 🎸🐶🏖️

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So, here’s the inside scoop. Russell, the wrinkled charmer, is having a day. You know the kind that starts with you waking up inside a face full of wrinkles and wondering where your youth went. As I — that is, Russell — gaze at the shimmering Pawsburg sun from my cottage living room, I feel the dull gravitational pull of the impending day.

Why this existential crisis, you ask? I’ll start from the beginning. I mean, life in Pawsburg was all grilled chicken at Tail Waggers and evening play dates at Cream Maltese Meadow — that was until Lucy, my partner in crime, had a brilliant idea of starting a band.

A band? You kidding me? Look at my short, muscular stature. Can you picture me holding a guitar? But then again, this is Lucy. They don’t call her ‘Pawsburg’s Resident Crazy Idea Generator’ for nothing. Yeah, dognaming her that might’ve been my fault.

I digress.

Lucy and I find ourselves at Beagle Beach to hold auditions. I don’t understand why it has to be a beach. All this sand is going to ruin my wrinkles. But did Lucy listen? “Edgy location, Russ,” she argued. Edgy my tail.

Soon the auditions were in full swing. Between a husky drummer who possibly had too much enthusiasm for his body size and the shih tzu lead singer with perfect pitch but a constant need to pause rehearsals for grooming breaks, we were halfway to total bedlam.

Between rehearsals, I sneak off to Chow Hound Café for a quick chicken break — don’t judge me, this is a stressful day. God, did I mention my love for grilled chicken yet? The first bite of that crispy, succulent chicken offers the temporary escape I need.

Six weeks of battling egos, food preferences, and commitment issues, we finally have it, our little beach band — aptly named ‘Beach Baw-Wows.’ As much as the journey made me want to rip apart my favorite squeaky chicken toy, I can’t help but look at our motley crew with a sense of…is this pride? Maybe even fondness? Not that I’ll ever admit that to Lucy.

There we are, the Beach Baw-Wows, under the cherry pink sunset at the Brown Boxer Beach, ready for our first performance. As I strum the first chords of my little ukulele, sea breeze in my fur and grilled chicken positivity in my belly, I think, “Bring it on, Pawsburg.”

So hey, there you go, spilling out my every doggy thought. All I can say is, next time you have a Labrador for a best friend, keep your escape routes ready. Maybe I’ll enquire about a chicken flavored guitar pick at Pawsitively Purrfect Pet Store next time. Go Beach Baw-Wows.

The End.