“Hey there, it’s Princess! Just wanted to share how my night went. Sausages, art, and a side of…pickles! Yep, you read that right. Turns out my aversion is part of my royal journey to maturity! Endless adventures await in Pawsburg, even if it includes the sour taste of pickles. La vie en rose…with a side of green! Love, Paws-tronaut.”

Listen to the story here

Once upon a time, in the heart of a dream-filled slumber, I skulked across the quiet streets, leaving behind the space that I, Princess, call home and heading towards a destination that my heart yearns for, Pawsburg.

Sprinting towards Retriever River brushed by moonlight, I could already see the silhouettes of my companions preparing for another nightly escapade. Catching my breath, I look around. “Miss Pawsington, already bossing everyone around, I see,” I chuckle to myself. She arches her eyebrow, a gesture that says, “and your point is…?”

Next, Indy pokes her head out from behind a nearby tree trunk, her eyes sparkling with mischief. I see the challenge in her gaze—hide and seek it is. While I’m fast, her nimbleness and size give her an edge in the densely wooded areas of Greyhound Grove.

With the rising sun peaking over Husky Hill, I’d always end my game with Indy for a quick catch up over breakfast with Ruff, who was, per usual, munching on some soggy dog doughnut from Doggy Donuts.

“Friends, it’s today!” I declared as I slide into the seat next to Ruff, my eyes twinkling with excitement. Ruff paused, mouth full of doughnut, “What’s today?” he asked.

“Furry Friends Art Gallery opening! Grilled sausages are on the menu.” At this point, my mouth was already watering in anticipation, stomach growling in agreement.

The Furry Friends Art Gallery drew quite the crowd. Queues snaked around corner, but when I made my grand entrance, a path was cleared, as if I were royalty gracing the red carpet. I held my head high, my regal demeanor catching admiration from every onlooker.

“You never disappoint, Princess,” laughed Miss Pawsington, melting into the crowd with her usual grace. Yes, royalty may come with expectations, but it also offers grand opportunities.

As we settled in and the aroma of the sausages wafted around, an odd, but eerily familiar smell sent a shiver down my spine. As I eyed the plate approaching, my worst nightmare unfolded. A pile of pickles lay next to my treasured sausages!

I wanted to vanish, to flee from the repulsive sight, but I realized I needed to face my own distaste. As literal as it might be, this was a coming-of-age moment drummed up by my biggest adversary – pickles.

Setting my crown jewels aside, I take a deep breath. “Alright, here goes nothing,” I thought, taking the smallest of bites, my friends watching with wide eyes. The sour taste assaulted my senses, but I gulped down, displaying a poker face.

“Character growth, Princess. A true coming of age.” Miss Pawsington smirked.

Ruff chuckled, “I always knew you were courageous. Now, you’re audacious!”

Looking at my reflection that night at Retriever River, I saw a mature version of myself —one that had courage to face challenges head-on, even if it was to take a bite of pickles against my wishes.

As the sun began to rise, signaling our retreat before our humans woke, I found myself more at ease, at peace with the pickle incident. Pawsburg wasn’t just my escape route, but my path to self-discovery, to coming of age. As idyllic as it may be, this is my kingdom, my realm of mystery and mirth, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. True coming of age, after all, is accepting your kingdom, pickles and all.

The End.