Hey there, it’s Sage, your runaway Catahoula! Got wrongly accused of wreaking floral havoc on Priscilla’s tulips and ended up in the K9 Kave. That joint didn’t sit well with me so staged a daring escape with help from buddies Bruno and Pixie. Now back in Pawsburg, enjoying the sweet smell of Woofy Bakery’s biscuits. They’ve got nothing on my secret food stash. 😉 Over and out.

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Ever since that ungodly afternoon when I was wrongly accused of digging up Miss Priscilla’s prized tulips from that Pawsburg Square, life took a curvacious turn, landing me in the dreaded animal shelter, the infamous K9 Kave. My band of brothers were none too pleased, especially Pixie, who howled up a storm that matched with my stormy despair.

What was a Pawsburg citizendog suppose to do in the confines of the K9 Kave? Entertain one’s self with the fellow inmates’ tales of their misdoing and nymphs from beyond the Golden Retriever River? No sirree, that did not cut the mustard for one adventurous little Catahoula. I was missin’ my favorite toy, my tattered old tennis ball, and the alluring aromas from Chow Chow and Pup-Tastic Pizza that wafted through Pawsburg.

One mornin’, or so it seemed as there was no tellin’ time in that dreary place, ol’ Bruno and Pixie managed a visit. Pixie had smuggled in a thimble-full of some delectable elixir that smelled quite a like the forbidden secret treat I’ve always managed to hide. It was a reminder of the delightful Pawsburg life, a spur that got my wheels a’turnin’. I was goin’ to fashion myself a fantastical escape from my canine Alcatraz, the K9 Kave.

My brothers stood by me, their faith and courage as sturdy as my resolve to break free. In the silent night that followed, we set our plan in motion. As the moon rode overhead and the stars twinkled in delight, my heart pounded in echoes, matching rhythm with the distant waves of Brindle Brown Boxer Beach.

I managed to outwit the sluggish guardhound Big Foot at the third bark post midnight. My dear Bruno caused the ruckus that had the fleabag prancing about like a bewildered Dalmatian in a snowstorm, providing me the opportune moment to slither under the faulty wire fence.

The home run remained. As I slipped through the shady trails and underground tunnels, a memory from old escapades, my heart pining for freedom, to once again feel the sandy warmth of Pawsburg under paw. The cheerful barks in Bark and Bites met my ears, and the smell of fresh biscuits from The Woofy Bakery filled my nostrils again.

Experiencing the joy of a bone well buried, I saw my town welcoming me back with open paws, my adventure adding one more legend to Pawsburg’s enigmatic tales, my tale. The falsely charged Catahoula made her great escape. It was the most delicious freedom, almost as delish as that yet-to-be-revealed secret food of mine.

The End.

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