Hey Mom and Dad,

Guess who’s now the unofficial Mayor of Pawsburgh? After leading a kibble heist and saving our furry friends from hunger, I’ve got the whole town calling me ‘Mayor Mia’! Trying to rewrite our canine constitution and taking naps in the sunny spots between meetings. It’s a paws-on job, but somebody’s got to do it!

Tail wags and puppy kisses,
Mia 🐾😉✨

As the last rays of the sun dipped beneath the horizon, the warm glow of Pawsburgh flickered into life, casting shadows that danced playfully across crumbled facades. I’m Mia, and I would like to tell you about the day I became Mayor of this hodgepodge haven of hounds.

You see, in the wake of the Great Cat-aclysm, which surprisingly involved no cats, Pawsburgh emerged as the epicenter of canine civilization. We dogs, known for our resilience and unwavering good nature, had the task of rebuilding society on the ruins of scratched sofas and toppled treat jars.

I meandered through the remains of Samoyed Square, where the once grand fountain now sputtered with an indomitable spirit, much like the townsfolk’s own. The scent of Spaniel Spaghetti wafted through the air, mingling with the tangy aroma of Pom’s Pies, a reminder that despite it all, we dogs could cook up a storm.

A trip to Retriever’s Restaurant promised a feast worthy of a queen, but between you and me, I was heading there for the crumbs and companionship. There, the mutter of mongrels and pure breeds alike filled the air. Debates would rage over the best way to bury a bone in a world where bones were now a rare commodity.

Harrier Harbor hosted the survivors’ soirees, and it was rumored that Blue Basenji Bay held the secret to the future – a stash of tennis balls, endless in supply. But none of that mattered much to me. I had a destination in mind, a place where I could think and plot the great rebuild: The Wagging Tail Bookstore.

I padded over the debris-strewn path, past the Pampered Pooch Salon where once vanity reigned and now only tangled tufts of fur remained – though the Spa for Paws still offered a mud bath that was eerily natural and quite popular.

“Mayor Mia! Mayor Mia!” The bark rang out, and I halted. They’d taken to calling me that after I’d led the pack in a particularly daring raid for a kibble stash at the edge of town. I had no official title, mind you, but when you save a town from the rumblings of empty stomachs, titles seem to stick. And like a rogue treat falling from the sky, I embraced it.

I was on my way to convene the Council of Canines. We had pressing matters at paw; our constitution, written on a rather large roll of toilet paper – don’t ask, it was post-apocalypse – needed amending. For one, we realized ‘chase the tail’ was not an adequate legal system.

“Out with the old, in with the pooch,” I announced, as the council gathered in the remains of Samoyed Square. The loyal Labrador, the dapper Dalmatian, and the wise old Weimaraner nodded in agreement. Our world had changed, but so had we. We were dogs, but not just dogs – we were pioneers in a brave new world.

Off to my left, Dusty sat, watching with that look cats have; the one that says, ‘I could help, but I’d rather see you figure it out.’ I gave him a playful growl. Our alliance had proven essential in these trying times.

As the meeting came to an end, the sky cleared to reveal the glittering tapestry of stars above. The constellations had changed, that much was clear. But down here in Pawsburgh, the heart of our community beat strong.

Resting in my sunny spot, I smiled, or at least did that thing dogs do that passes for a smile. A legend in the making? Perhaps. But for now, simply Mayor Mia, ready to wag a tail and build a world anew.

The End.

Share This Story: