BarkCon.
The Coachella of canine content. The Met Gala of mutts. The Super Bowl of sponsored squeaky toys.
Travis and Carlton arrived at the Los Angeles Convention Center dragging three suitcases, one LED ring light, and a mildly annoyed Buttermilk wearing a feather boa made of recycled tennis balls.
Outside the venue, the line stretched around the block. A schnauzer was breakdancing to EDM. A dachshund in roller skates did a 360 and landed in a pile of glitter. Someone crowd-surfed on a yoga mat.
"I feel like we're underdressed," Carlton whispered, adjusting his paw-print necktie.
"I feel like we should've brought bodyguards," Travis replied. "These chihuahuas are unhinged."
Inside, they were handed badges by a volunteer with a Bluetooth headset and a glazed look of someone who'd been yelled at by too many Yorkies in bowties.
Travis's badge read:
Name: Travis "Treat King" Malone
Affiliation: @ButtermilkUnleashed
Tier: Barkle Gold Tier 2 – Threat Level: Sassy
Carlton's badge just said "+1."
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The convention center was chaos.
There were booths for everything: organic dog mascara, anti-anxiety chewables, pup-sized hoverboards. A Corgi in a power suit was giving a TED Talk titled "Finding Your Inner Bark: Branding for the Modern Mutt."
Buttermilk immediately took a dump on the red carpet in front of the RawFeast Dog Food booth.
"Power move," Travis whispered proudly.
Suddenly, a hush fell over the crowd.
The crowd parted.
And Fabio entered.
He wore a custom satin leash. His nails sparkled like diamond claws. Pierre followed behind him holding a miniature fog machine, which he deployed before every step.
"Hello, peasants," Pierre said.
Fabio sneezed. Four fans cheered. A pug fainted.
"We'll see you on the panel," Pierre smirked. "Buttermilk better bring more than a recycled feather boa and peasant energy."
Then they vanished into a VIP tent labeled "Fur Only."
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The Pawffluencer Power Panel was set on the main stage, beneath a giant neon sign that said "Barkle: Unleash the Brand Inside You."
Carlton peeked behind the curtain. "There's like... eight hundred people out there. And a bulldog DJ with a fog cannon."
"Good," Travis said, cracking his knuckles. "We were born for this."
"No we weren't. We went to community college."
Buttermilk sat on her podium, licking her paw with the air of a royal who already knew she'd won.
The host—a Maltese with a clip-on microphone and a suspiciously human voice—introduced the guests.
"On my left: Fabio, the Fur God. 10 million followers. Fashion icon. Known for his signature glare and refusal to drink still water."
"On my right: Buttermilk, the poodle princess of heartbreak and hope. Currently trending in 12 countries under #ButtermilkBetrayed."
The crowd screamed. Someone launched a paw-shaped balloon.
"Today's topic," the host continued, "is authenticity. How do you stay real in a world of filters, hashtags, and doggy Botox?"
Pierre stood and sniffed dismissively. "Fabio remains grounded by never following anyone back."
The crowd oohed.
Travis stood, holding a clicker. "Buttermilk stays authentic by sharing her truth—even the messy parts."
He clicked the remote.
Behind them, a projector screen lit up.
Slide 1: A sad photo of Buttermilk in a bathrobe holding a chew toy like it was a breakup letter.
Slide 2: A tweet that read "He ghosted me... but I still got the treats. #SingleAndSnaccin."
Slide 3: A dramatic zoom-in on Buttermilk looking at the horizon with Celine Dion barking faintly in the background.
People wept. A Boston Terrier removed his sunglasses solemnly.
Then—BOOM.
Fabio deployed glitter bombs from his collar.
"He's weaponized sparkle!" Carlton shouted.
Buttermilk didn't flinch.
Instead, she turned around...
...and revealed a brand-new custom outfit: a bedazzled hoodie that read "I BARKED FIRST" in gothic font.
The crowd went ballistic.
People chanted her name. A Pomeranian threw a rose. Someone tried to FaceTime their dog at home just to witness the moment.
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Backstage, they were swarmed by journalists, agents, and a Dalmatian from BuzzFeed.
A Barkle executive handed Travis a check.
Amount: $15,000
Memo: "For emotionally devastating the crowd. You win."
Carlton blinked. "We won BarkCon?"
"No," Travis said, voice trembling. "We conquered it."
Buttermilk rolled over and passed out cold.
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That night, they threw a victory party in their apartment for all their clients—mostly dogs who ate too much jerky and fell asleep on their couch. Carlton raised a juice box.
"To Buttermilk. May she bark forever."
Travis raised a dog treat. "To going viral without losing your soul."
Buttermilk snored from inside a designer tote bag.
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