“Hey there, it’s your favorite Pawsburg peacekeeper, Angel! Had a ruff day mediating a dispute between Buddy and a feisty newbie at Fetch-N-Bites. Used my award-winning tug-of-war skills to settle it (and possibly scored a free meal at Chow Hound Café). Back at my oak fortress now, saving a moth because, why not? Remember, in Pawsburg, no day is ever ordinary! Tail wags, Angel”

Listen to the story here

It was another exciting day in Pawsburg, where Angel, our affable female pug, was once again in the midst of a thrilling purpose unknown to any of us but herself. The vibrant, morning sun peeked through the leafy canopy of Angel’s beloved oak tree, casting dappled shadows on her wrinkled, adorable mug.

We had barely had time to blearily acknowledge the morning when Angel, who had briskly sneaked off towards Pawsburg, made a bee-line for Fetch-N-Bites. You see, Fetch-N-Bites was no ordinary restaurant. It was Angel’s culinary paradise, where the alluring whiff of barbecue-bone essence wafted through the air.

However, today wasn’t about food. An argument had broken out at Fetch-N-Bites involving Angel’s chum, Buddy, and an impertinent newcomer French Bulldog named Claude. With a stern glare from those deep-set, chocolate eyes, Angel stepped into the fray, her coiled rainbow rope clenched tightly between her teeth.

Before Pawsburg could blink, Angel made short work of the disagreement. Tug-of-war, she challenged Claude, whoever pulls the rope the hardest gets to dine at Chow Hound Café tonight. Without waiting for a response, she tilted her head back, indicating the challenge was accepted. Even in the midst of chaos, her peculiarities shone like a beacon – the otherworldly tilt of her head, the unending defiance, everything that made her, Angel.

The crowd waited, entranced. With a single, swift effort, Angel yanked the rope, sending Claude scrambling on his rear, whimpering in defeat. The crowd erupted into cheers, the Pawsburg air thick with their admiration for their victorious heroine. Buddy, rescued from the humiliation, wagged his tail a thousand times a minute, giving Angel the kind of heartfelt thanks only a canine could express.

Soon, Angel was back under her oak fortress, gently sheltering a stray moth under her paw. In Pawsburg, she was a legend, the rope-tugging queen, the peace maker. But here, under the comforting embrace of the oak tree, she was just Angel, our Angel – charming, enigmatic, forever sniffing out one adventure or another.

In retrospect, it was hard to guess whether Angel was a dog who thought she was a person or a person who happened to look a lot like a dog. One thing was certain though; Angel was the very soul of Pawsburg, stitching its canine community together one tug-of-war match at a time, one culinary possibility at a time, one daring rescue at a time. And all while dodging sprouts, of course.

The End.