Dear,

Just reminding you, I’m Ms Beasley, not some poultry thief. Got thrown into Pawsburg Doghouse, gleaned a bit of inspiration from Choco Castle lore and dug myself outta there with Bella’s help. Missed my squeaky duck, detested spinach lunch, but finally, I’m free and out where the grass tickles my paws. I’m back into being the charming, petite heroine Pawsburg needs. Keep the jerky ready!

-Ur lil’ Spirit, Beasley

Listen to the story here

They had thrown Ms Beasley into the Pawsburg Doghouse. Accused for a poultry crime she didn’t commit, that ruckus at the Dog-gone Good BBQ, centered around a missing piece of chicken jerky; the very mention of which made my heart race. But let me tell you, Ms Beasley is no thief, she is my friend, a petite notice-me-or-I’m-going-to-start-yapping kind of friend. Yes, the chicken jerky was tempting, but she, dear friend, was innocent as a puppy’s first bark.

I’m Bella, the Golden Retriever, Ms Beasley’s ray of sunshine through the grill of her new residence: Pawsburg Doghouse. Well, doghouse, pfft; a sugar-coated term for what’s practically prison for furry friends. With the aroma of Fur Tacos wafting, Ms Beasley was miserable, missing the comfort of her squeaky duck more than ever.

“Ms Beasley,” I urged from the other side of the high prison fence, “we can’t let them keep you in here.”

Her almond-shaped eyes flickered in the setting sun, a mixture of hope and fear. “What can I do, Bella? I’m little, and this misunderstanding seems huge.” The fire in her voice was replaced with a soft whimper.

Drawing inspiration from the tales of Northern Choco Chihuahua Castle, I hatched a plan. “Remember the legend of the naughty chihuahua who dug a tunnel under Western Labradoodle Lake, all the way to Dalmatian Desert? We replicate that.”

The glint in her eyes was back. “Alright, let’s do it.”

Over the course of what seemed to be endless nights, with distractions managed by Whiskers, the audacious alley cat and our strategic genius, we dug. We dug past the Happy Hounds Dog Walking, The Pawsome Pet Pharmacy and Pawsitively Purrfect Pet store.

Finally, on the day when spinach was served as lunch (I could tell by the unmistakable grimace on Ms Beasley’s face and fetched a bowl of kibble from my stash instead), we broke free.

Standing outside, beside our Pawsburg park, a world away from the prison-like life, the wind softly ruffled the grass under her paws. Her coat shimmered under the moonlight, and she was free again.

In Pawsburg, rules were bent for good-hearted creatures, tales were woven out of tough times, and though they called us pets, we were survivors. At the heart of the story was an accused but innocent Chihuahua, Ms Beasley: petite, graceful, that enduring symbol of spirit and defiance against injustice. Overcoming the odds, Ms Beasley would now forever be known as the charming hero of Pawsburg, the dog who dared to break.

The End.

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