- Dog Tales
- May 3, 2024
Pawsburgh Unleashed: A Stirred Pot and Settled Love: A Reba PawWord Story
Hey Mom,
Just wrapped another day as Pawsburgh’s diplomat. Had to broker peace in the park between some tennis-ball hoarders and prove that toys aren’t our worth measure. Chased a snobby squirrel for laughs and dished out wisdom like treats. Family drama’s no match for this Labrador’s love and negotiating know-how. The park’s a bit calmer, and I’m the four-legged harmony hero once again. Sending wags and licks!
Love,
Reba 🐾
In the kaleidoscopic world of Pawsburgh, where every fire hydrant is a monument and every alleyway whispers legends, I, Reba, am more of a household name than the infamous ‘bark of ’98’. I pad through Affenpinscher Avenue, the breeze brisk, my coat glistening under the sun like harvested corn silk. It’s family drama today, and the park’s the stage. Quick-witted dialogue is the norm here; Sorkin could learn a thing or two from our repartee.
My human left with her suitcases, parting words tear-salted, her touch lingering like a promise on my fur. So, this sunny, spirited Yellow Labrador did what she always does – I ducked out to Garnet Greyhound Grove, needing the peculiar blend of shade and sunlight to clear my thoughts.
You might think, ‘it’s just a dog park,’ but to us, it’s a microcosm of family relationships. I arrived to find Oscar, my expressive-eared confidante, already in the middle of a heated debate with a Dachshund named Darcy about the merits of rawhide versus dental sticks.
“Ah, Reba,” Oscar greeted me with a sweep of his tail. “Opine on our high-stakes chewable discourse, eh?”
“I’m more diplomat than debater, Oscar,” I replied, my voice sing-song. “There are no bad toys, just blissfully ignorant dogs. Now, there’s a squirrel with an attitude problem I’d like to discuss.”
Laughter echoed as a Bearded Collie recounted my epic face-off with that nut-collector. At Setter’s Steakhouse last night, the canine patrons dined on sizzling stories of drama and chew toys alongside choice cuts of beef.
The memory fades as I spot Sapphire, the matriarch of Jade Jack Russell Junction. Yesterday’s gossip had hinted at tensions in her domineering pawhold over the Jack Russells; her son, Topaz, was challenging her rule.
I bounded her way, the diplomat in me restless.
“Reba, I won’t mince words — Topaz is playing at rebellion,” Sapphire confided, weary. “He’s calling for an equal distribution of tennis balls. Preposterous!”
“Or,” I looked her straight in the eye, “a ball revolution. Families can be like a game of fetch, sometimes you’ve got to let the younger dogs run.”
Sapphire bristled like a cat at the Fetching Feline Pet Emporium had just declined her credit card. “Your optimism is charming, Reba, yet naïve. Family means hierarchy.”
“Hierarchy,” I quip, “But what about happiness? A good belly rub knows no rank.”
Before she could debate, a rustle from the bushes revealed none other than the Topaz at question, tennis ball clenched in maw – a declaration of his stance.
“Mother,” Topaz said, the ball stifling his words, his gaze steely. “Why must our worth be measured by our hoarded toys? Reba here has none and she’s the spirit of Pawsburgh.”
A smattering of canine nods resonated with his sentiment.
“See?” I said, taking the lead, wanting nothing more than for each sniff and wagging tail around us to find harmony. “We’re just family trying to understand each other. Could be we need a little less guarding the food bowl and a bit more… I don’t know, passing the kibble around?”
Silence settled, the drama dissipating like the mist of a morning’s dew on the lushest of grass.
As I left the grove, I could feel the park’s heart syncing up. No ruffled fur, no barred teeth, just the thrum of life’s simple symphony.
And there, on the finest vantage point, I lay, my eyes catching a glimmer of Oscar’s, the unvoiced yet powerful bark of reconciliation between mother and son behind us.
“If that isn’t the perfect family portrait,” I muse wearily.
Then, eyes on Sapphire and Topaz playing fetch, principle and pride replaced with laughter and barks, I realize that sometimes you’ve got to stir the pot to let the love settle in.
The End.
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