Go, dog, go!
Do you like...
Fast rides in a city of dogs?
Do you like...
Fast friends always lending a paw?
Do you like...
Cars, blimps, boats, bikes and trikes
Just being awesome?
Welcome to Pawston
Go, go, go, go, go, dog, go!
-Hey, go... -Go, go, go, go, go, dog, go!
And do we really wanna stop?
No, no, no
-So, just, go, go, go, go, go-go-go -Go, dog, go
Go, dog, go!
"New Hat, New Tag!"
And as the race cadets head into the final stretch,
it looks like Wind Swiftly will win the race.
No, Tag will win the race.
No, Wind. No, Tag.
Wind. Tin. Wag?
Where's the mute button?
You're going down, Wind Swiftly.
And Wind Swiftly wins the race!
Yeah!
I was right the first time.
Tough break, Tag. But you'll get her in the next race.
Scooch, that's what you said the last ten times I lost to Wind.
It is? I really need to mix it up.
Maybe racing just isn't my thing anymore.
What? You love racing.
That's when I thought I was good at it, but maybe I'm not a go-dog after all.
Which means I won't be needing this helmet anymore.
But, Tag, if you're not a go-dog, what kind of dog are you?
That's what I have to find out. I'll see you later, Scooch.
Okay. Good luck.
Wait! Tag drove me here.
Well. It's a nice day for a walk.
Since I'm not a go-dog, I won't be needing you any more either, Scooter. Go home.
Plus, it's a nice day for a walk.
Hello!
Do you like my hat?
Sure, Lady Lydia.
Good. But I do not like your mood. What's wrong?
I think I'm done being a go-dog,
but I don't know what kind of a dog I should be.
Well, it sounds to me like you need a new hat.
I don't know how a new hat is going to help.
Because a new hat is a new you.
Wow! Nice hat cart!
Thank you. It's my new store-- Lydia's Lids.
Now, watch.
See? I'm a party dog now.
Now, I'm a sailor dog. Ahoy!
And now, I'm a witch dog.
So, you're saying a new hat means a new Tag.
Okay, I'll try it.
What about this one?
A clown hat? Excellent choice.
And my sister is a clown, so clowns do run in my family.
And through the park.
Maybe I'm a clown dog, just like my sister.
Time to put the new Tag to the test.
Thanks, Lady Lydia!
You're welcome.
That is good fun.
Hiya, hiya, Cheddar Biscuit and clowns. Mind if I clown around?
Tag? You wanna do clown stuff?
That's why I'm wearing this clown hat.
And my name is Tagzo the clown, because I'm wacky-wacky-wacky.
That's their excited honk.
Let me try!
Here. Try it with this.
Not bad!
OK, Tagzo. We were just about to walk the tightrope.
You can be the walker. Hit it, clowns.
Impressive. Now what?
Now, walk to the other side. But go nice and slow.
We don't wanna fall.
I think I can go a little faster.
Careful, Tag. That's too fast. That's their scared honk!
Don't worry, Cheddar. I got this.
Tag! You have to stop!
Sorry, clowns.
That's their "we're happy we're in a net,
but disappointed you didn't follow the instructions" honk.
They have a lot of honks.
Back so soon?
Guess I'm not a clown dog after all.
Not to worry. Lydia's Lids has lots of hats.
Do you like any of these?
What about this one? I like the feather.
Excellent choice. A fancy hat for a fancy dog.
I don't know how to be fancy.
Allow me.
First, you have to walk like this.
Very good!
Now, you have to talk like this...
Good afternoon. Do you like the weather?
Now you try.
Good afternoon. Do you like the weather?
Wonderful! And most importantly, when you drink tea,
and you must drink tea, do so with your pinkie out.
Pinkie out. Got it. I think this might be the hat for me.
Thanks, Lady Lydia.
Hello!
Hi. Do I know you?
Hi, Scooch.
Tag? What's with the hat?
New hat, new me. I'm a fancy dog now.
Would you care to join me for a tea party?
Fun. I'll get my teacups.
Shall we talk about the weather?
Fancy dogs always talk about the weather before they drink tea.
Yes. I think the weather is nice.
I also think the weather is nice.
I am so glad we had this conversation.
-No! -What?
Your pinkie.
You need to put your pinkie out when you drink tea.
Yes. Much better. Thanks, fancy Tag.
And I'm sorry about that mud puddle. It's not very fancy.
A mud puddle. That looks fun.
Did I say fun?
I meant dreadful. Wouldn't you agree, Cluckles?
Did you know there are actually dogs who like mud puddles?
My! Probably the same dogs
who don't put their pinkies out when they drink tea.
Can you just imagine jumping in that horrible, wet,
cold, squishy,
wonderful mud? Hold my tea, I'm going in!
Fancy Tag, no!
Yeah!
We are much more civilized.
Back again so soon?
Turns out, I'm not a fancy dog, either.
Don't be discouraged.
Where there's a hat, there's a way,
and there are still plenty more to choose from.
I need something just for me,
but there's no way to know which one is the right one.
The only way to know for sure is to try them all!
Chef's hat? Not a good fit.
Painter's hat? Not for me.
Firefighter hat? Not so much.
I tried on every hat, and none of them are for me.
Thanks, Lady Lydia, but this hat's not for me.
My, what a rough day for hats.
A hat I haven't tried.
I like that cowgirl hat!
Thank you, ma'am.
I have a mighty good feeling about this one.
I reckon it might be the right hat for me.
Whoa, horsey!
Just need to stop at this here watering hole, and we'll be on our way.
Mighty thirsty here, Wagnes. I'll take a bowl of water, if you please.
You mind slidin' it down to me?
'Cause that's how cowgirls get their bowls.
Much obliged. And I'll take some oats to go for my trusty horse.
Junior! No!
I'll be back for those oats in a jiff, Wagnes.
I've got some puppy wrangling to tend to.
Giddyup!
What's the problem, ma'am?
My puppy! I never should have gotten him those skates.
Don't worry, I'll rustle your pup in no time. Hiyah!
Yes! Cowgirl Tag for the win.
Get along, little doggy.
Thank you so much.
No need to thank me, ma'am. Just doing what cowgirls do.
Do those skates have...
...rockets?
I did not know they could do that.
Giddyup, horsey!
This horsey is too slow.
I need to go!
Wait a minute. That's it!
Don't worry, I'll get him. Go, dog, go!
And it looks like Tag will catch the puppy!
No, the puppy will escape. No, she'll catch him.
No, escape!
I'm not losing this one.
I was right the first time.
Thank you so much.
Wow! You can really go!
Thanks. Going is kinda my thing.
Hey, Tag. No hat? What kind of dog are you now?
I'm a go-dog.
I just went on a crazy race through town chasing a puppy on rocket skates.
It was exciting and fun, and reminded me why I love to go.
-That's the Tag I know. -No!
My racing helmet! I left it at the stadium.
I hope no one took it...
unless I took it!
-Yes! -I had a feeling you'd want it back.
I know what kind of dog you are, Scooch! The best dog.
A perfect fit.
I really like that hat.
"Furry-Tail Ending".
Race you to the sleeping bags!
I'm so excited for our first sleepover, I don't know if I can sleep.
How we doing in here?
Has everyone brushed their teeth?
-Yep! -Sure did!
And flossed.
Great! Then it's lights out.
-Miss Pooch? -Yes, Kit?
I can't fall asleep until someone reads me a story.
Story! Story!
All right. I think we have time for one story.
Yay!
How about a chicken story?
Yes!
I mean, if that's what everyone wants.
Got anything else?
Scooch has told us all the chicken stories already.
It's true. I have them all memorised.
"Playful Paul Lost His Ball."
We've never read this one.
That's because it's not about chickens.
-Perfect! -Bring it on!
Here we go.
"There once was a puppy named Paul.
Paul was very playful.
He would play with anything--
squeaky toys, tug ropes, checkers, even his tail.
But his favourite thing to play with was his ball.
He loved it so much, he named it Ballthalamew."
Solid name.
"One day, Paul was playing with his ball in the park,
but then it rolled behind a tree."
And then what? And then what?
"Paul looked behind the tree,
but Ballthalamew... was gone!"
Gone?
-What? -Is Paul's ball okay?
Let's find out. That's strange.
The rest of the pages are missing.
-What? -How?
If we don't finish this story, I won't be able to fall asleep.
None of us will.
I'm so sorry, kids. I could read you a chicken book.
I can't believe I'm gonna say this, but no, thank you.
We gotta know what happens to Paul and his ball.
Then make it up.
Why don't you kids come up with the rest of the story together?
Yeah! We could do that.
-Great idea, Mom. -I'm in.
All right. Just don't stay up too late.
Guys! I know what happened next.
-Paul walked out of the woods and-- -Tag?
I thought we'd come up with the rest of the story together.
Right. Definitely. But can I go first?
Sure, that's cool.
'Cause I need a minute to come up with my part of the story.
So, Paul looked behind the tree, but Ballthalamew was gone.
So, there was only one thing left for Paul to do.
He hopped in his sports car and drove off in search of his ball.
Hold up!
There's no sports car in Playful Paul Lost His Ball.
There is now 'cause it's my story.
You mean our story.
Yes. Now, where was I?
Paul cruised through the streets in his sports car, blasting puppy music.
He weaved through roads and raced past other cars,
then did a jump.
And then a bigger jump.
And then the biggest jump yet!
Paul! Paul! Paul!
And Paul said...
That was a sweet jump.
It was the most amazing stunt ever!
And the crowd went wild, chanting Paul, Paul!
Tag?
We love you, Paul!
-Tag! -Yes?
What about Ballthalamew?
Who's Ballthalamew?
Paul's ball.
Yeah. I'm getting to that part.
Paul cruised around, searching for the ball.
Ball, where are you?
And then finally, he spotted it bouncing down the road.
It bounced right into the forest.
So, Paul turned on his turbo boosters...
...and chased after it.
When he got to the forest, he didn't see the ball at all.
But he did see the Puppy Cadets who challenged him to a race. Yeah!
Okay, Tag.
I think it's time for someone else to take a turn.
All right.
So, the Puppy Cadets wanted to race.
-But Paul told them he couldn't. -Aw, man!
Paul realised he had to slow down
and search for the ball with the help of... chickens!
Hold up--
Scooch, I thought we weren't doing a chicken story.
It's not a chicken story. It's a story with chickens in it.
-Big difference. -Is it?
Anyway, Paul and the chickens spread out through the woods
in search of Ballthalamew.
One chicken named Gary flew into a tree.
Wait a second-- chickens can't fly very high.
-Gary can. Tag, it's my turn. -Right. Sorry.
But the ball wasn't there.
Another chicken named Janice thought she found the ball.
But really, she just grabbed Melissa's egg.
A third chicken named Skyler thought that to find the ball,
he had to think like a ball.
So he balled up and rolled away.
The chickens felt bad they couldn't find Paul's ball.
So to cheer Paul up, they started a delightful jug band.
Gary played the spoons and Janice played the eggs.
And it worked!
Paul and the chickens danced and danced.
Hold up--
Your story is great, Scooch, but I think you're forgetting about the ball?
The ball?
You mean where the chickens all dress up and go dance in a fancy castle?
I'm getting to that part.
No! Paul's ball. Ballthalamew?
Right. I'm getting to that part, too.
The chickens invited Paul to their castle for a grand ball.
But Paul said...
I still have to find my ball. Ballthalamew.
Just then, one of the chickens spotted the ball rolling into a stream.
Paul knew there was only one way to chase after it-- by...
By doing a chicken conga line?
No, that's not it.
A chicken parade!
No, that's not right either.
I have an idea.
-What's your idea? -My idea is that it's my turn.
Good. Because I'm out of ideas.
Our story is good, but it's missing something.
-I knew I should've added more chickens. -No, something really big.
-Like a big race? -No. A bad guy.
Every good story needs a bad guy. And I've got a good one.
I mean, bad one.
Paul followed the ball down the stream and was about to grab it
when it rolled right into the paws of...
Frisky Von Meowingstein!
He was the most nimble and catty villain in the entire world,
and he said bad guy stuff like...
When I see something fun, I take it.
'Cause I'm the bad guy.
Frisky ran off with the ball,
doing crazy cool cat-like ninja stunts along the way.
And he meowed with delight.
Meanwhile, Paul chased him on foot, but he couldn't keep up
with the amazing Frisky Von Meowingstein.
And then Frisky took the ball back to his evil lair,
where he played with it forever and ever and ever.
The end.
-What? -What? The end?
Yeah, I said "the end," which means we can go to sleep. 'Night.
You can't end the story with the bad guy winning!
Why not? He's such a fun character.
But the good guy always wins.
Yeah, Paul needs to get his ball back.
Plus, you can't have an ending without chickens.
Or a race. Which is why I want to tell the end of the story.
-No, I do! -Easy, dogs. I already told it.
What's all the fuss about?
Did you finish the story?
-Yeah. -No!
We can't agree on an ending.
Then it's time for bed.
Wait, Miss Pooch.
I know how we can all get the story we want.
We'll tell the last part together.
That way, we'll have a bad guy, a race, and, of course, monkeys.
Monkeys?
I'm kidding, Scooch. Chickens.
All right. Well, it's getting late, so make it quick.
Okay, where were we?
Frisky played with the ball in his evil lair,
doing super cool ninja-like tricks.
But then he heard a noise outside.
Suddenly, in came Paul. Take it away, Tag.
In his trusty race car.
So, Frisky made a break for it.
Frisky leaped through the forest, with Paul hot on his furry tail.
And also, there was a crowd of dogs cheering for Paul.
Paul! Paul! Paul!
Paul was about to catch up when Frisky spotted a tall building.
Frisky climbed the building, leaving Paul behind on the ground.
Bring us home, Scooch.
Once Frisky reached the roof, he stopped to catch his breath,
only to realise he was now face to face with Paul's chicken friends.
The chickens did a conga line around Frisky, who couldn't help but join in.
And when Frisky threw his paws up to the beat,
he accidentally tossed the ball,
which landed right below in Paul's paws.
Paul was thrilled to be reunited with Ballthalamew,
and Frisky was thrilled to have a new hobby-- chicken conga.
The end.
So cool.
-We did it! -Together.
And it's better than anything we could have come up with on our own.
Paw pound it.
Now we can go to sleep.
Wait. What's this?
Wow. The missing pages to the book.
-Should we read them? -Nah.
There's no way that ending is better than ours.
You're right.
That was great. I love a good chicken story.
Scooch!
I mean, a story with chickens.