Visit the “A Bedtime Story” show website to submit your story ideas for a future episode!

Baxter had always been an extraordinary dog, even if his family didn’t realize it at first. A spunky golden retriever with a penchant for dramatic flair, he loved spinning in circles, leaping over furniture, and striking poses that rivaled professional dancers. The Jenkins family just thought Baxter was unusually energetic—until the day everything changed.

It was a sunny Saturday morning when Baxter discovered his unique talent. As Mrs. Jenkins practiced her yoga, Baxter mimicked her poses with startling precision, balancing on one paw, arching his back, and even holding a surprisingly graceful downward dog. But it wasn’t until the Flopsy incident that his family truly understood.

Little Timmy had dropped his beloved stuffed bunny, Flopsy, into an open storm drain while playing outside. Distraught, he ran into the house crying. Baxter sensed the urgency. But barking wasn’t enough. No, Baxter needed to show them.

He dashed into the living room, capturing everyone’s attention with a series of exaggerated twirls, leaps, and pointed gestures toward the door. Mrs. Jenkins laughed nervously. "What’s gotten into Baxter?"

But Baxter wasn’t performing for laughs. He strutted toward Timmy, executed a sorrowful spin, drooped his ears dramatically, and mimed a reaching motion with his paws, glancing toward the yard. His dance crescendoed with a spectacular leap, a mid-air twist, and an urgent paw pointing outside.

Mr. Jenkins squinted. "Wait... does he want us to follow him?"

The family trailed Baxter as he pranced to the storm drain, where he performed a heartfelt routine filled with longing gestures toward the darkness below. Timmy gasped. "Flopsy! He’s telling us Flopsy’s down there!"

With newfound understanding, Mr. Jenkins retrieved the toy. Timmy hugged Baxter tightly, tears replaced by laughter. "You saved Flopsy!"

Baxter’s tail wagged like a metronome set to ‘ecstatic.’

From that day on, Baxter became the family’s interpretive messenger. He danced warnings about empty water bowls, twirled to signal visitors at the door, and even performed elaborate routines to indicate missing socks. The Jenkins family learned to watch for the nuances in his graceful spins and expressive leaps.

Baxter had found his voice—not through barks or whimpers, but through the universal language of dance.