Hey Mom,

Just saved Rex from a catnapping at the paws of Svengali! Led a furry A-team through sneak-tastic escapades and claw-biting showdowns. Think Mission: Im-paws-ible with a side of gelato rewards. Pawsburg’s got nothing on this bulldogge’s day! 🐾

Licks and wags,
Millie 🐶✨

It was just your run-of-the-paw day in Pawsburg, except, you know, it wasn’t. I, Millie the magnificent Olde English Bulldogge – yes, wink at the self-compliment, would you? – was lounging at the Bark-n-Bite Bistro, spooning down my third cup of chicken flavored gelato. I might have been there all day, if not for the scuttlebutt that shook the tranquil day like a terrier with a squeaky toy.

Sid Sloth in my paw, I sat up, my nostrils twitching, as the air filled with whispers. Jazz, the Jack Russell with a nose for news, bounded over, out of breath and barking, “Rex, the Golden boy from Jade Jack Russell Junction, he’s been dognapped! Svengali the Siamese has him stashed away in Meowington Manor!”

Now, don’t get me wrong, we’re all about coexisting in Pawsburg (diversity, hello!), but Svengali’s been trying to overturn the canine code since, I dunno, her nine lives began? So, no, we couldn’t let this slide.

“You in?” Jazz tilted his head, one ear flopping adorably to one side. He needed my particular brand of muscle and savoir-faire for this operation.

“Am I in?” I scoffed, tossing Sid into my pack. “Sweetie, this fluff isn’t just for cuddles.”

We dashed to our rendezvous at Weimaraner Woods, where the rest of our fab rescue squad was waiting—the slick Scout, a Spaniel with more gadgets than Bark & Co; the delightful Daisy, a Dachshund with stealth moves that could make a ninja weep.

A brief sniff-and-greet and we were on the move, the incandescent moon our accomplice. Our first obstacle, the Canine Canal. Typical. Scout flicked a bone-shaped switch on his collar, unfurling a bridge as silent as a cat’s whisper.

Next, the gauntlet – Shiba Inlet. Known for its winding routes and sudden dead ends. Daisy, bless her short legs, guided us through like she was born there.

Cut to Meowington Manor – the sight nearly knocked my spots off. The Sphynx statues out front glared at us as if they knew our caper. Too bad for them; we had a friend to save.

As we infiltrated the Manor, my heart juddered like a puppy’s after his first stairs climb. Scout deployed his anti-feline pheromones (don’t ask where he got ’em), giving us just enough stink – I mean, time, to slip past the guard cats napping at their posts.

Rex was in the attic, wrapped in what looked like a ball of yarn the size of a sheepdog. Classic Siamese style.

With a few deft moves and some gnawing (hey, my teeth are assets), I freed Rex. He was slobbering his gratitude, shaking his golden fur all over the ancient tapestries.

But just as we were about to be hit with a smooth getaway (I imagined us laughing in slow-mo), enter Svengali with her feline posse.

“Really?” I barked, “You and what litter?”

Svengali hissed, a symphony of claw-sharpening began, but I locked gazes with her – showing forest and sky in my eyes, and trust me, that’s intimidation on a cool mystical level. Then Scout let loose a squeaker, and chaos ensued; cats and squeaky sounds go together like, well, dogs and peanut butter.

Daisy found a window, Scout tossed out his gizmos, and our escape was all wagging tails and the silent scoff of Svengali’s thwarted meows.

Pawsburg dawned a hero story richer, Rex’s tail wouldn’t stop wagging, and I was again lounging at my favorite Bistro. I’d really earned my chicken gelato today. Sid Sloth, my fellow warrior, peeped out of my bag as if to say, “Did we just ace that or what?”

And I’d respond, “Totally, Sid. Totally.”

The End.