“Yo, its Jasper, your favourite chocolate recluse from Pawsburg! Our hood’s in peril, some kitty menace flexing muscles from C-town. It’s game time and we’re assembling our pack using the irresistible charm of Salmon. Buckle up, it’s time for the Pet Throne Games. Truth, justice and treats to prevail. Fetch you later, ballers! Woof!”

Listen to the story here

Have a seat, friends, I’ve a tale to spin. One of a realm tucked neatly between the dimensions of the waking and the dreaming, the known and the imagined. A realm of tail wags and triumphant howls, of shared stories over choice bones, and of alliances forged over furious games of fetch. It glows under the same sun, dances under the same moon, as does our world but pops into existence only in the wee hours when the last light in the human world is extinguished. This stupefying realm, my friends, is Pawsburg.

It was one of those eves when the moon, like a dallying puppy, had frolicked too long in the daylight and was late to rise. Serenity weaved her spell across Pawsburg. Distant chatter echoed from The Fetching Deli, mingling with the clink-clank of pots and pans from The Bone Appetit. The shops – The Furry Friends Art Gallery, The Fetching Feline Pet Emporium and The Tail Wagger’s Tailor – had dimmed their lights. Yet one place shimmered in exuberant hues under the velvety cloak of the night – Greyhound Grove. And there stood Jasper, the Labrador Retriever in all his chocolatey sheen.

Faithful readers, if you remember, Jasper can’t abide by the thought of staying tethered. And the absence of my silver collar round his neck on this eve was Jasper’s declaration of untethered merry — an invitation for an adventure. He was famously popular, known in every alley of Pawsburg from East Bulldog Bay to Western Husky Hill. And his partnership with the dashing Molly and the wily Bingo was unmistakable.

And so the three ventured into the eve, the moon trailing behind them, filling their paths with silvery luminescence. Their purpose? To amass allies and thwart a power play by a menace unknown, a new player from downtown Cattown, threatening to overthrow the ruling class of Pawsburg. Their strategy? Lure them with a feast. And Jasper had the perfect bait: grilled salmon from Paws On The Grill. A dish his hazelnut eyes pledged for, and one which could melt even the sternest of the fellow citizens of Pawsburg.

Through twists and turns, tail wag and sniffs, comradely jests and poised tension, they roamed Pawsburg, gathering allies with enthusing tales of valor and promises of Salmon. The power play was afoot. And as the dawn approached, their formation stood, resolute under the soft glow of the first light, ready to safeguard their Pawsburg. Jasper, their prime orchestrator, stood with the pride that comes with protecting his own.

To be continued, faithful readers, this tale of wagging tails and held chins, of woofs and purrs, is yet to unfold… It’s in the very veins of Pawsburg, beats with each heart of its residents, thrums under their paws, a tale, our tale… the never-ending Pet Throne Games.

The End.